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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29744256">A year of you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorey/pseuds/notabronte'>notabronte (sorey)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Henry Cavill - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Art, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Henry Cavill - Freeform, Henry Cavill's POV, Kal Cavill, OFC POV, RPF, Slow Burn, art gallery, first person POV, henry's pov, kal - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:46:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>106,913</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29744256</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorey/pseuds/notabronte</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Arlet is a young hardworker girl who is saving to start her own bussiness, a dream that seems so far away, but it becomes closer the day she meets Henry. Working together not only makes them closer, but also makes them learn more about each other's strengths and weaknesses.</p><p>Long friends to lovers slow burn, with lots of talking, lots of cliches, fluff stuff, light spicy parts, and love, of course. A lot of sugar was put in every chapter.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Henry Cavill/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>102</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. We met in spring</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello! Thank you for joining me in this adventure. My warnings for this are: prepare for a quite long slow burn, even if it might not look like that at some point, trust me, and a lot of fluff. Maybe a bit of smut at some point? I haven't decided yet. But definitely what I expect is an enjoyable reading for everyone who decides to start it.</p><p>I apologize in advance for any typos that might occur, since english is not my first language. I'm doing my best here!</p><p>I usually try to do my best to describe environments, outfits, objects, but I would recommend to check the author notes at the end of the chapter for word guides to the links to images in case I wanted something more especific for that moment and you missed the link on the post.</p><p>That's it, I hope you join me for as long as this journey takes.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> Prologue</strong>
</p>
<p></p><div>
<p></p><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr"><hr/></div><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr"><p>
      <em>Sometimes I need to remind myself why I keep doing this job.</em>
    </p></div><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr"><p>
      <em>Is it because of the paycheck?</em>
    </p></div></div><div>
  <p>
    <em>Well, it helps, but definitely not the main reason.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>Is it because of passion?</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>Because of passion I started it, but it got lost somewhere during the last couple of years.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>Is it because of the possibility to meet interesting, well possitioned, maybe attractive and definitely wealthy people?</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>It is certainly not the main reason, but is the one that starts this story.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
<p></p><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr"><hr/></div><p>
    <strong>Chapter 1</strong>
  </p></div><div>
  <p>My name is Arlet. I'm 28. Today I'm gonna meet the man I'm going to deeply fall in love with, but I don't know that yet. All I know is that I need to dress up for work.</p>
  <p>It's sunny today. But it's chilly. One of those weird spring days that make you go outside with a thin jacket, wondering if you'll freeze with a gentle breeze or you'll sweat after you walk three steps downstreet, or both.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Fast-walking to my workplace I decide it's both.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"You're late" Mr. Cabrera says to me when I walk through the glass doors to the small yet wide looking white interior of the art gallery.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I'm sorry" I apologise, though I know I am actually five minutes early. I hurry to remove my long grey jacket and going to the back office to store it with my purse. There, I change my comfortable shoes for my work heels, which definitely suit better with the plain black formal <a href="https://i.pinimg.com/564x/64/d1/f0/64d1f0fa951de9187cb2bebd56064196.jpg">dress</a> I'm wearing, I put some rebellious strands of dark brown hair in its place, because my bun got messy on the way here, and I go back to the exhibition space to start my gallerist assistant duties.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Today, we are preparing everything for an exhibition opening day this afternoon, and Mr. Cabrera wants everything to be absolutely perfect. <em>Retazos</em> is a small gallery, but it's one of the most populars from the city thanks to the special care of my boss. Mr. Julio Cabrera has been in charge since the very opening and knows very well how to succeed in his field. He has a more or less good eye for local artists and art pieces, and knows even more about professionality in sales. That is why, even though when he's one of the worst bosses I've ever worked for, I wanted to be his assistant at all costs. There's a lot to learn from Cabrera, which I've been doing through the past years of hard work, and also a generous paycheck helps me with my rent and bills, but also to save for the future. And my dream.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Have you sent the reminder emails to our clients?" he asks as he walks around the room, making sure each art piece is where it should be.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Yes, Mr. Cabrera" I answer, walking behind him while correcting everything that looks out of place.</p>
  <p>"And to the artists as well?"</p>
  <p>"Yes, Mr. Cabrera."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"We have a lot of important people coming today. I hope you'll be on the level of the situation"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I will be."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Every opening day for a new exhibition he says exactly the same and I reply also the same, same story when we go to art fairs trying to recruit new collectors for our newsletter and client list. Cabrera is a perfectionist. Every event is as important as the last one, and we must act consequently. We must be graceful, obliging, welcoming, professionals. That is how the gallery has been climbing steps to the top during the years it has been open. But he is right. Today we have important people coming. Is just I don't know yet how much important.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>After a busy morning and a poor, hurried lunch hidden in the back office, I finish directing the people in charge of the drinks and food for the party just in time before the opening. I wait inside with the service while Mr. Cabrera waits outside for the first guests, collectors and artists, preparing himself to give a warm and elegant welcome. I hear them talking, laughing a bit, probably sharing some formal joke. And then, people starts entering. Regular collectors start their tour around the gallery, staring at the different pieces and having conversations between them. Some of them know each other from another opening parties and it helps to build a very familiar ambience. Some others, especially the artists, know me by now since we've worked together for a while, and come to greet me and share some nice words about the pieces they've seen.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Between the visitors I recognise Anton, the art studen that visits us pretty often. I always have to make a huge effort to not show how much I dislike him. He is a lot younger than me, probably around early twenties, with a beautiful exterior that hides his true self, an arrogant, pedantic and manipulative snake. He talks to Mr. Cabrera as if they were on the same level, flattering him from time to time to get always some privileges when it comes to spend more time in the gallery when it's closed. Mr. Cabrera has taken care of this gallery for so many years, but he's so self centered he hasn't noticed he has allowed a rat to sneak in. When I see Anton walk closer to my direction, I do my best effort to keep a poker face, but he walks past me to meet with Mr. Cabrera, who greets him with enthusiasm. I sigh with relief when I see I won't have to talk to him, at least for now. </p>
  <p>The opening party starts without any trouble.</p>
  <p>And then, they arrive.</p>
  <p>The first one of the two men that enter the gallery an hour later the opening started looks like he's used to this type of ambience, I can tell that by how he immediately gets involved in the ambience, but I've never seen him before. He looks middle aged, maybe at the beggining of his fourties, tall, average complexion and short, brown hair, and dressing casual clothes. He looks around him, visibly interested, and approaches to the table with the drinks to get a glass. It's the second one that really gets my attention, because he immediately gives the impression of a fish out of water in this environment. Oh, and because I recognise him immediately. My eyes go wide as I try to tell myself I must be dreaming, because it can't be possible. But it is. The second man is Henry Cavill.</p>
  <p>I'm having a hard time digesting that Henry Cavill, <em>that</em> Henry Cavill, has just entered in my workspace, and I thank to whatever divine force is watching over me for so many years of trained professionality to just not make a very stupid move right now. I take a deep breathe, trying to get my nerves out, and I remain on my place, though it's impossible for me now to stop looking at him. He's even taller than the one he came with, with wide, big shoulders and arms that somehow manage to fit under his clothes, short brown hair combed backwards, shorter on the sides, and a very lost look. Definitely seems like he and his friend were walking in the street and casually found the gallery, his friend probably more interested than him on finding out what was going on inside, but definitely trying to be polite towards his friend's interests.</p>
  <p>
    <em>What is he doing here? Isn't he supposed to be in London?</em>
  </p>
  <p>My attention gets caught by one of the temporary workers we hired for the catering and I need to attend the matter, and thankfully I totally forget about Henry being there for a while, as I'm totally focused on doing my work. I attend the collectors that reclaim my presence, I explain some of the pieces when I'm required to do so, and have a bit of extra conversation if that can lead to a possible sale. But at the end, between all the people, I find him again. He's alone, staring one of the pieces with polite curiosity. I'm not too far from him and I can see little interest on his face, like he's just watching something on TV for the sake of it, because there is nothing else to do. I get lost on him for a moment, only on him this time, forgetting about everything else. About everyone else.</p>
  <p>"Arlet!" Mr. Cabrera whispers from my back, scaring the shit out of me. "Are you required here?" he asks, referring to Henry, as he points him discreetly with his head.</p>
  <p>"I don't know yet. I was waiting to see if that was the case" I lie, knowing that Mr. Cabrera won't tolerate me distracting from my work.</p>
  <p>"You better act then!" he keeps whispering, and even though we're talking in spanish, I really hope Henry isn't hearing anything of this, because he is not being very quiet. Then, he looks at his target as if he's studying him, probably knowing Henry could afford several pieces if he wanted to. By now, I know how Cabrera's mind works, and if he sees a possible sale, he goes for it.</p>
  <p>"But sir, I don't think he's interested in..." I start whispering back before he interrupts me again.</p>
  <p>"If you don't make him buy anything, you're fired" he sounds determined, and that makes my stomach sink. What did he just say? "I've been talking to Anton, and he really wants to work as a trainee for me. For free. I can totally afford that, for sure, and not lazy people who make me lose money by getting a paycheck every month. I don't like having too many people working here. A man like him could put this gallery on an international level of collectors, and I'm pretty sure he'd rather listen to a young good looking girl before an old man like me. So if you don't manage to sell <em>him</em> anything today, you don't need to come back on monday. Understood?"</p>
  <p>"But sir, I..."</p>
  <p>"<em>Understood?</em>" he insists.</p>
  <p>After opening and closing my mouth without words coming to it, I nod, silent, and suddenly nervous. Cabrera walks away and leaves me inmersed in a knotty mess of anxiety, panic and anger. Of course it had to be Anton the one threatening my job. I should have seen it coming sooner. If I had the time, I'd just go to angrily vent by phone to one of my friends, but instead I force myself to take a deep breath, then another one, and after a third one, I find the strength to walk towards Henry, not feeling less guilty for it. He is still looking the same piece, a <a href="https://www.shirasgaleria.es/tienda/wp-content/uploads/RELACION-ASPECTOS-4-920x1380.jpg">picture</a> of some trees in black and white, with a piece of wood placed in the middle of it, interrupting the image. I stand next to him, looking at the picture as well, trying to find the best way to start the conversation. I'm nervous, a lot, and after this Henry is probably going to think I'm another person going after him, or his money, which in this case, sadly, is the truth. But what else did I expect to happen here, let's be honest. Worst case scenario, he won't remember about me in a week or two.</p>
  <p>"The picture was taken in the nearby river" I explain in my best english, still looking at the piece, trying to keep my professionality as a defensive shield. "Personally I think there's a lot of more beautiful landscapes near the city to capture in a picture like this than this one."</p>
  <p>There's a silent, short pause, and when I dare to look at him, Henry is looking at me, like surprised by my presence. Or by my words, since I'm supposed to be praising such a magnificent piece and how he shouldn't miss it in his collection. No, if I'm doing this, I'm going to do it on my way.</p>
  <p>"Is it analog processed?" he asks, looking back at the piece.</p>
  <p>"No. It's not the original picture. It's a transference on wood" I explain.</p>
  <p>"Oh, now I see it" he says as he looks at it closer. I try to keep a smile from showing on my lips, since I can detect when someone is faking interest on a piece they're not really interested. The man is considered enough to keeping up the charade. Or maybe it's just his good manners. "It must be an expensive work process."</p>
  <p>"Not really" I reply, looking at the piece again. "And overpriced, in my opinion. I think the gallery did a wrong choice with this artist. But don't tell my boss I said that" after saying that, I look at him again, winking after the last comment, and relieved when I see the beggining of a smirk crossing his lips.</p>
  <p>"Well, I believe I've shown myself as an obvious ignorant of the matter" Henry says, relaxing for the first time I've seen him since he entered, relieved that someone found out about his secret and didn't make fun of it. Then, he turns to me and offers his hand "Henry Cavill."</p>
  <p>"I know" I reply, knowing it would be silly to lie, and I take his hand, which he shakes more gently than someone would expect. "Arlet Caronte, the gallerist's assistant."</p>
  <p>"I'm impressed, questioning your boss's decisions, wouldn't that put you in trouble?"</p>
  <p>"Only if he finds out" I reply, smiling when I see a kind smile from him as well. </p>
  <p>"He won't. Not from me, at least" he promises.</p>
  <p>For a moment, both of us remain silent. Around us, the swarm formed by collectors and artists fills the room with an unceasing murmur of different conversations having place at the same time. We look at the now glamourless piece, and I wonder if I did wrong putting it down, because Henry might like that one. </p>
  <p>"Well, obviously I have no clue of what I'm doing here. Why don't you show me your favourite piece? Maybe that way I can learn something" he says, distracting me from my thoughts, and surprising me with his suggestion. </p>
  <p>There is a kind smile on his lips when he says it. A smile that is also on his eyes.</p>
  <p>"Of course, follow me" I reply, smiling him back.</p>
  <p>The gallery, though small, has three exposition areas: the main one, in which we were in, being the biggest of the three, and the one hosting temporary exhibitions; the back office, with some pieces on the walls, a couple of couches forming an L and a coffee table with some papers where the sales become official, which is also the place where we storage some of the old pieces and the workers personal items; and the basement, which has some more pieces exposed, and some more storaged. Right now, there is no one in the last two, since all action is on the main room, but both are allowed to the visitors who want to watch the permanent pieces exposed on those, until they sell.</p>
  <p>I take Henry to the back office. The murmur in this room is softened, it feels calmer. He takes a curious look around us, noticing the different pieces. I wait until he is done to gently point the two paintings over one of the couches, disposed <a href="https://www.shirasgaleria.es/tienda/wp-content/uploads/IMG_20181224_122619_0512-920x436.jpg">one</a> next to the <a href="https://www.shirasgaleria.es/tienda/wp-content/uploads/IMG_20181224_122632_9312-920x449.jpg">other</a> in an horizontal composition reminiscent of a landscape, whith empty wall spaces on top and bottom of them. It might not be interesting to a wide audience, since they look just like a paint blurr, but more than once I've found myself looking at them for a long time when I'm alone at the gallery. </p>
  <p>"They remind me of the shore" I explain before he has the chance to ask. "A cloudy day, maybe a bit rainy, walking on the beach, with my jacket on, and hands in my pockets because it's cold. Every time I look at them, I see it. There's beauty and melancholy in them. And the way your eyes go from the sky to the earth, dancing between both. Like there is no boundaries, you can't really tell where each one ends and the other one starts." </p>
  <p>I remain silent, slightly blushed, worried that I might have got carried away and let go a bit too much of what this paintings mean to me, but when I look at Henry again, he's contemplating them with a new expression on his face, not the bored one I saw before, when he was watching the other piece. Then, he looks at me, determined.</p>
  <p>"You really do know about this, don't you?" he asks, giving me a kind smile. Then, he looks back at the pieces. "I want both."</p>
  <p>
    <em>Excuse me, what?</em>
  </p>
  <p>"Excuse me, what?" I can't help myself, being caught off guard. He looks back at me, as if he said something completely normal.</p>
  <p>"I want both" he repeats, kindly. "Is that doable?"</p>
  <p>"Of course, of course" I manage to react, and with a gesture I offer him a sit on one of the couches, while I sit on the other one. "I didn't expect you to be so direct."</p>
  <p>"Well, you are quite convincing" he replies, taking a sit on the couch, large legs open, arms resting on them.</p>
  <p>This is weird. By how I judge people, I could tell Henry is not the kind of person who gets convinced so easily. In fact, I was pretty sure it was going to be impossible to sell him something the same instant he stepped inside the gallery. I think about this as I hand him the paperwork he needs to fill. The muscles in his arm tighten slightly, showing off some veins, as he holds the pen and starts writing as I indicate. I point to a blank space of the paper with my finger when he asks me something, carefully leaning forward a little bit more, and I can get the scent of his cologne mixed with his aftershave. </p>
  <p>I don't know how long it takes us to go through all the paperwork, maybe longer than usual, I can't tell. His hands in motion distract me, so big and tough, yet so graceful with the pen they're holding. His voice is so soft that whenever he asks something I need to make an effort to actually pay attention to what he is saying to me and not melt into the mere sound of it. And when we make eye contact, his eyes take me to the same place those paintings take me to. I could be staring at those eyes for hours.</p>
  <p>"So, that would be it" I say, after clearing my throat. "I just need your signature here."</p>
  <p>He signs the paper and then hands it to me. I double check it to make sure there is nothing missing, and then I proceed to sign it too. Then, I give him his copy.</p>
  <p>"We will send them as soon as possible. Insurance is included, of course."</p>
  <p>"Wonderful. I thought they would be more expensive though" he says, frowning a little bit while looking at me.</p>
  <p>"Yeah, usually the price of some pieces isn't the one they deserve, sadly, while another ones can be overpriced" I explain sincerely. "There are several pieces that I personally would not have bothered to include in the exhibition, but I'm not in charge" I shrug after saying this. "I'm glad that these two are finally getting a home though. They were being wasted here, where no one comes to visit often."</p>
  <p>"Except for you" he guesses.</p>
  <p>"Except for me, yes" I reply, smiling more to myself than to him while I play with my hands.</p>
  <p>We remain in silence for a little bit. Henry doesn't look to be in a hurry to leave the room anyway. I know there have been visitors recognising him and taking pics with him, so maybe that is why he prefers to delay the moment to go back to the crowd again. I'm not going to be the one pushing him to do it. </p>
  <p>"May I ask you something?" I ask, after that moment of silence.</p>
  <p>"Sure" he says, preparing himself for any kind of question.</p>
  <p>"Have you played already the last one from The Witcher?"</p>
  <p>For an instant, Henry looks confused, but then he smiles so widely I can even see his fangs, more pointy than average. His shoulders relax a bit more as he nods. We spend the next ten minutes, or maybe twenty, or maybe thirty, talking about the videogame. He clearly didn't expect me being interested on such things, which is an impression I'm used to give while I work. The gallery ambience forces some people into wearing a mask of someone who they don't actually are, but here, in privacy, we can drop that mask for a small amount of time. </p>
  <p>"I'm afraid I'm taking too much of your time" Henry says when the conversation starts to fall.</p>
  <p>"I should be the one saying that" I reply with a kind smile as both of us get up from the couch, to which he shakes his head in an emphatic 'no'.</p>
  <p>"It was you who saved me before in the other room. And definitely I had a better time talking with you than I would have had walking around the exhibition by myself."</p>
  <p>He seems so honest I can only try not to blush at it.</p>
  <p>"Your friend must be looking for you thought."</p>
  <p>To which Henry shrugs.</p>
  <p>"Maybe he is, or maybe he didn't notice I wasn't there. Anyway, let's find that out" he says, rising slighly his eyebrows.</p>
  <p>We exit the back office together, slowly walking and trying not to gather too much attention to ourselves, but that doesn't keep Mr. Cabrera from finding us a moment later, with his good mannered facade and his best fake smile.</p>
  <p>"Ah, Mr. Cavill, it's a pleasure to have you here. Have you found anything of your interest?" </p>
  <p>I can see Anton approaching us too and stopping right behind Cabrera, with his not so subtle arrogant smile. He truly expects to have my job today.</p>
  <p>"Oh, absolutely. Arlet was kind enough to show me some beautiful paintings you have in the other room. I'm now the happy owner of two wonderful pieces" Henry says, so politely, while I try my best to remain professional and not blushing.</p>
  <p>"Wonderful" the man says, though he clearly is not entirely happy. He expected to get rid of me today. And so did Anton, for what I can see on his face. "Wonderful" he repeats. "Perhaps I can show you some other pieces you might be interested as well. They're beautifully exposed in the basement room, if you'd like to accompany me..."</p>
  <p>"If you don't mind, I'd rather have Arlet going with me, since she seems to have a good idea of my tastes" Henry interrupts him with a sharp but polite tone.</p>
  <p>"Of course, of course. Arlet, keep up the good work and show him, would you?" he says, as politely as he can, but he can't hide that little stab of anger from me, since I know him long enough to know that voice tone.</p>
  <p>"Of course" I say, diligently, with a satisfied smile.</p>
  <p>And I walk away, guiding Henry to the basement stairs. He looks like he's about to offer me his hand to help me go downstairs, worried about my high heels, but I'm more than used to this, and I go before him without any help, coming down every step with elegant determination. He says nothing about this, but I can sense his eyes watching every step I make, just in case. Again, being in a different room muffles the sound of the voices upstairs. It's quieter here, and a bit darker, since even when the small room is fully lighted, the walls down here are black instead of white. Elegant, even for a basement.</p>
  <p>And, once again, we're alone.</p>
  <p>"Sorry for dragging you with me again" he breaks the silence this time. "I have the feeling your boss is the kind of person that can be very..."</p>
  <p>"Stubborn?" I finish, unable to help myself.</p>
  <p>"I was going to say 'persistent' but you said it" we both share a confident smile. "So, this is the basement. What do we have here?"</p>
  <p>"The most expensive pieces" I answer, in spite of myself. "I'm pretty sure Mr. Cabrera wants me to show you this one". </p>
  <p>And, with a kind wave of my hand, I point out to him the <a href="http://lnx.joseptornero.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/10/2019-01-08-21.41.51-1017x1024.jpg">most expensive piece</a> of the gallery. It's a black and white portrait of a sad woman, with a blurry camera moving effect that gives the impression of another face, painted on a huge canvas. It's so big that, even placed touching the ground, it almost touches de ceiling of the basement. When you see it, there is no doubt about why is the most expensive one. We both stare at it for a couple of minutes. I let him study it for as long as he wants to. That gives me a chance to do the same with him. He looks so focused, frowning as he stares at every part of the piece that catches his attention. He looks impressed.</p>
  <p>"Why isn't this one placed upstairs?" he asks, looking back at me, finally.</p>
  <p>"The main room is used for temporary exhibitions" I reply, looking back at the painting. "Permanent exhibitions have a place in the other two rooms. Our habitual visitors, the ones that can't afford buying, know where to find their favorite pieces. And occasional visitors might find something they like in here."</p>
  <p>There is a moment of silence, after which he asks:</p>
  <p>"What do you think about this one?"</p>
  <p>I turn my head again to see him with a gentle smile.</p>
  <p>"What do <em>you</em> think about it? Do you like it?" I ask back.</p>
  <p>"Kind of. Maybe because it's big. But at the same time is too big. You know what I mean?" </p>
  <p>"Yeah. It's a good piece. And a good artist. We've worked with him several times. But you shouldn't buy this one" I end up saying.</p>
  <p>"Why?" he looks confused when he asks it.</p>
  <p>"Do you really want to spend a ridiculous amount of money for something you 'kind of' like?" </p>
  <p>Henry makes an expression that can easily be read as 'good point' which makes me smile even more.</p>
  <p>"This is why I wanted you to show me this room instead of your boss" he says, catching me off guard for the second time of the day. "He would definitely try to sell me this one."</p>
  <p>"He definitely would" I agree, thankful for the low light that helps me hide my blush. He doesn't say why I wouldn't, but he doesn't need to. He has read through me as well as I did through him. </p>
  <p>"Do you have any favourite piece in this room?" he asks, catching my attention again, to which I nod.</p>
  <p>"I do. But I'd rather let you pick a piece <em>you</em> like. Follow your taste."</p>
  <p>"Will you tell me later?"</p>
  <p>"Sure."</p>
  <p>With a gentle smile and curious eyes, Henry starts looking around the small room, stopping at every piece to stare at it closely, as if it were a game. He walks by this composition of four square white canvases with a black line going through all of them, another wall piece but this time made of wires and a couple of uneven cardboards painted in warm colors, but he stops at a small frame that catches his attention. It's a small one, with a blue and gold resin <a href="https://www.shirasgaleria.es/tienda/wp-content/uploads/oxidacion-24.jpg">piece</a> framed in wood with a white background. After looking at it for longer than he did with the other ones, Henry turns to me and points it out.</p>
  <p>"This one" he announces, which makes me smile wider. "What?"</p>
  <p>"You found my favourite."</p>
  <p>To which he smiles as well. I walk until I'm standing next to him and we both look at the piece together. Now that we are this close, I can smell again the scent of his cologne mixed with his aftershave. I try to not give it any importance, but that fragrance is going to be with me even in my deepest dreams from now on.</p>
  <p>"I'd like to buy this one as well" he says, finally, after some minutes of silence.</p>
  <p>"Really?" I look at him, eyes full of surprise. "Don't feel obliged, you don't need to..."</p>
  <p>"But I want to" he cuts me off, gently, not breaking eye contact with me. Finally, he draws half a smile on his face. "I just hope you don't hate me from taking all your favourites from you."</p>
  <p>"I will try not to" I reply, smiling back at him. "I'm afraid we have more paperwork to do."</p>
  <p>"Let's get us into work then."</p>
  <p>This time, instead of doubting about offering me help with the stairs, he just kindly offers me to go first, and I walk every step with confidence, knowing that, if I happen to fall, he's right behind me to catch me.</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Link words guide:</p><p>For the work dress: "which definitely suit better with the plain black formal dress I'm wearing"<br/>For the art pieces:<br/>- "a picture of a forest in black and white"<br/>-"disposed one next to the other" (2 links)<br/>-"the most expensive piece of the gallery"<br/>-"blue and gold resin piece"</p><p>I'm sorry I promise next chapters will be less art centered lol</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Leap of faith</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Henry and Arlet get to spend some more time together, discovering more things about each other... And taking big decisions about future.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>We take care of the paperwork once more, but this time we don’t have as much time to be alone as we did before, since the party is almost over and people have started to leave because we’re near closing time. However, Henry doesn’t seem to be in a hurry, and if he was, he doesn’t say it. I’m almost sad when we’re done with it once again, because that means one of the most interesting afternoons I’ve ever had is about to end, the man responsible for it is going to leave, and it’s almost certain that I will never see him again. It’s time to say goodbye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s been a pleasure to meet you today Mr. Cavill” I say, offering him my hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, call me Henry. The pleasure has been all mine” he replies, shaking my hand gently, like he did before. He looks around the main room, to the few guests left. “Seems like my friend has assumed I left before him, because he didn’t bother to wait for me” adds, half smiling. “That would make the two of us for dinner, if you would like to join me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I blink a couple of times, trying to comprehend what he just said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dinner?” I repeat, as if I never heard of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. There’s a restaurant around the corner I’ve seen on my way here” he says, pointing at the door with his thumb. Then, he seems like he just realized something and adds: “Though I might be taking too much of your time, and it’s understandable if you’d like to go home and get some rest…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no. I mean, it’s ok, I can go with you. Sure” seems like I suddenly forgot about professional protocol because I don’t know how to properly talk anymore. “I just need to get some things done here before I can leave, but you can wait for me there. It’s the one in front of that little fountain, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that one. I will wait for you there then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m glad we arranged the plan just in time, because Cabrera shows up at that very moment, determined to take Henry from me this time. He basically sends me away to give the paychecks to the catering service workers and make sure they leave everything clean before they leave. I can’t hear what Henry and Cabrera are talking about, but it doesn’t last too long, because Henry is walking through the door barely two minutes later, winking at me as he leaves. I smile to myself and I keep doing my work, trying to not look too happy, because I can tell from where I am that Cabrera is in such a bad mood right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Half an hour later I’m the last one to leave the gallery. Some of our collectors were waiting for Cabrera to have some dinner elsewhere, and Anton has managed to get himself invited as well, so that leaves me alone in the gallery, finally empty, silent and in peace. When everything is the way it should be, I go to the back office to put my jacket on and grab my purse. I take one last look at the two pieces hanging over one of the couches, aware that they will be gone soon, but somehow, it doesn’t make me sad. More like the opposite. I like the place they’re going.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When I exit the gallery, a cold breeze of spring air greets me, making me close my jacket a little bit more. The sun is soon to be set, but birds are still singing on the branches from the trees all over the street. It’s not a very transited one, there is a car or two passing by from time to time, but empty for most of the day, except for people who get lost walking around discovering hidden parts of the city. I walk to one of the ends of the street, the one I know that has a little fountain with the statues of three ladies, each one holding an amphora dropping water. It’s a beautiful corner, a place for people to stop their walks and take a seat on the benches under the trees, with a nice restaurant next to it. There I find Henry, next to the little fountain, taking pictures with some small kids, who are excited to meet Superman, apparently. I stop a few steps away and look at them, with a tender smile on my lips. I can’t tell who is more excited, if the kids or their parents. But Henry has the patience to make everyone happy, always with a kind smile on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he realizes that I have arrived, I wave discreetly at him, moving my fingers, and he tells the kids he has to go. The kids make disappointed noises, but I hear the parents telling them that Superman must have other things to do as well, just like them. Henry reminds them to keep his identity a secret and the kids take it very seriously by the determined look on their faces, but they probably will tell everyone at school next monday about that day they met Superman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess being a superhero never ends, huh?” I say, smiling, when he finally is in front of me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s hard work, but someone has to do it” he smiles back at me. “I left word already to have a table prepared, are you hungry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I remember that poor sandwich I had for lunch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t imagine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We take a seat at our table, one on the outside, next to one of those exterior stoves so we don’t freeze when the sun is completely set. When the server comes, he smiles at me and asks me about my day, since it’s not my first time eating here due to the proximity to the gallery, and because I usually get take-away coffee from them when there is a general lack of caffeine at work. He hands us the menu, tries really hard to keep his professionality up when he realizes who is the one sitting with me, and asks us what drinks we want.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry looks at me, raising his eyebrows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you a wine person or a beer person?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m both, but after work it’s gonna be beer for me” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Correct answer” he smiles at me, then looks at the server. “Two beers then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Noted. I will be back in an instant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaves us, and now that we’re alone again, I feel suddenly nervous. Outside the gallery walls, where I no longer have to be professional, where I no longer wear my mask, I feel exposed, naked, vulnerable. I’m no longer the gallerist’s assistant. I’m just Arlet. And Arlet isn’t that interesting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you heard from your friend?” I ask, trying to break the silence set between us, as I look at the list of different dishes trying to decide what to have for dinner, using it as a barrier between both of us.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes. He totally thought I left and made some plans by himself. He’s fine” he takes a look at the menu too, but his eyes end up coming back to me. “Have you done this before? Having dinner with a client.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Several times, yes. But my boss joined us as well” </span>
  <em>
    <span>but that doesn’t make this less surreal for me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I think to myself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He tried to convince me to go have dinner elsewhere before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, of course he did. He doesn’t miss a chance. That explains why he was in such a bad mood when you left though. He doesn’t like to be rejected” I smile over my menu, looking at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, he was right about one thing. I’d rather listen to you than him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He is looking at me when he says that, and I wonder when Cabrera said such a thing in front of him when I realize he didn’t. Cabrera told that to me, in a whisper, in spanish, before everything began.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you heard us” I guess, feeling suddenly guilty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. He wasn’t very discreet. And I know enough spanish to guess what everything was about.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why did you buy all of those pieces then?” I ask, though I believe I already know the answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I didn’t want you to be fired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course. He heard that too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that moment, the server comes with our drinks and we both take a long sip. We order our dishes as well, some eggplant parmesan for me and some grilled chicken for Henry, and then he leaves us again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry” I say, feeling even more guilty now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For what? You were doing your job after all. Nobody can’t blame you for that” he says, and he seems sincere about it. “And what else was I supposed to do? Knowing that your job depended on me put me so tense, I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> ready to buy that picture of those trees only to not let him fire you. I’m so glad you realized I have no clue about art and didn’t let me do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We both share a laugh and I can see again those pointy fangs he has that make his smile even cuter. I relax a little bit, but I still feel that culpability on my stomach. It must be showing on my face, because he keeps talking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then when you showed me that couple of paintings, I really felt something. And when I heard you talk about them, I made my decision” he says, taking a sip from his beer after that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When you told me about how they brought you to a cloudy day at the coast…” he makes a short pause, like he’s trying to find the words, while biting his lower lip. “I immediately thought about Jersey. That’s the place where I grew up” he adds when I frown a little, not recognising the place. “It’s an island, with beautiful views from the sea, but it’s England so it’s always cloudy. After listening to you, I looked at the paintings and, I don’t know, it was like being a kid again, being in Jersey. I was at home again” he sounds so convinced about it, it really makes my heart warm. “You didn’t force me into buying anything, you just made that decision come by itself. That made things so much easier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t really know what to say to that. It would be different if he had the intention to buy something since the beginning, or if he didn’t hear about my situation with my boss, but a part of me feels relieved to know that, at least, those paintings mean something to him, that I didn’t make him buy them out of culpability.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As long as you promise me you’re not going home with something you don’t like…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, I can’t hide my blush, but Henry is polite enough to ignore it. I drink from my beer, hoping it helps me to digest everything that just happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you” I say, finally. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, thank you. For not trying to force me into buying something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun is almost set, and the lampposts turn on around the street. Around us, there’s only people at their tables, enjoying their dinner, and maybe some casual walker on their way home. Our food arrives, finally, and we start to eat. We’re silent at first, but conversation comes easily when I ask him what he is doing in the city. There happened to be a movie premiere yesterday and he had to attend, take pics, sign autographs, the usual stuff. He also has some interviews tomorrow morning, and he is leaving on monday. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a shame I have to leave this soon, honestly. This city has some beautiful places and I’d like to discover more of it” he says, going to the end of his glass of beer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could have shown you some of my favorite parts, so sad we didn’t meet sooner” I reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually…” he looks at me, pensive. “Are you free tomorrow afternoon?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can certainly clear my agenda if you want a small tour” I joke, playing with the food on my dish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If that doesn’t cause you any trouble.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I look at him and he seems to be serious about it. He wants to see me again. Tomorrow. After spending an afternoon with me, and also wanting me to have dinner with him for some reason, Henry Cavill wants to spend another one. I don’t know how I have survived to this day without embarrassing myself, I pretty sure won’t survive tomorrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he is leaving the day after and I would not forgive myself if I don’t go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No trouble at all” I say, finally, with a shy smile on my lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiles as well, a warm smile, one that makes me feel confident that I have made the right decision. I might be being selfish right now, wanting to trap between my fingers as many minutes with him as I can, but honestly, after how terrible last year was for me, I have finally found someone who makes me feel like I’m worth to spend some of his time with me after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>We talk about our food after that, it’s delicious, and he tells me he has to look very carefully at what he eats when he needs to be in shape for a shooting. He can relax from time to time, of course, but not lose that routine completely. And then there is me, who can have only a yoghurt for lunch because I have no time for more, but then eating a whole ass pizza after work because I’m hungry and still have room for dessert. How I have survived this far into adulthood with such poor eating habits is truly a mystery. I manage to make Henry laugh loudly with that, and it’s the most wonderful sound I’ve heard in a long time. He also looks relaxed in my presence, totally a whole different Henry from the one I saw entering the gallery a few hours ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The conversation evolves and changes all through the dinner. We spent a really long time just talking and laughing. I honestly don’t remember when was the last time I enjoyed someone’s company like this. It feels sad when we pay the bill -actually, Henry insists on paying- and we know the end of the night is near, but since I live close, we take a nice walk until we arrive there, delaying the goodbye for some more minutes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope you know you saved my day this afternoon” Henry says with a kind smile on his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you saved my job, I’d say that makes us even” I smile back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A comfortable silence is set between us, the kind one that usually precedes a first kiss. But it’s not the case for us. Not here. Not tonight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See you tomorrow?” he asks in a soft voice, a voice that gets deep inside me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See you tomorrow” I seal that way the deal between us, the promise of stealing more time from him, a time he kindly offers me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I finally cross the doorstep of the building, closing the door behind me. I can see through the glass how Henry stays there for a couple of seconds and leaves. Only then I dare to let go a deep sigh, and a smile comes back to my lips, a smile full of incredulity, of adrenaline, trying to simply assimilate what just happened today. As I walk to the elevator, I think to myself that any of what happened today can’t be real. It can’t be. I go into my apartment, throwing my jacket on the couch while I take my heels off, still with my mind so far away from me at this moment. I let my body sink into the armchair that I have next to one of the windows, and my eyes instinctively wander through the streets until they find him. His back, his wide back, walking away until he turns a corner and is out of sight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I search then inside my purse until I find my phone, going through my contacts and starting the call as soon as I find the number. It doesn’t take long until my friend finally answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Arlet? What is it? You never call this late” her voice doesn’t sound sleepy, but since I never use my phone later than 10pm after long work days, this call is out of normal for her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nerea! I hope you don’t hate me for this, but I need to cancel our plan tomorrow” I say, my voice full of excitement now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Why?! You know how much I need to go out on Sundays, it’s the only day I can have some girl time without Nestor…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can do it next Sunday again, I’m sorry, but this is important, Nerea, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There might be something in my voice tone, or because she knows I wouldn’t change plans so easily if it wasn’t for a good reason, but after a couple of seconds of silence, I hear her sigh at the other side of the phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>, girl, and it better be good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I do. I start telling her all about what happened this afternoon, but leaving the name of Henry out of it. I love my friend very much, but that is something I want to keep for me, at least for now. But I do tell her how he saved my ass at work today, how he then invited me for dinner, and how he wants to meet me again tomorrow before he has to leave. Nerea has the patience to listen to everything I say, which is a lot. I spend at least a solid twenty minutes talking, and when I finally finish, she doesn’t sound as happy as I expected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That mysterious man of yours…” she says in a careful tone. “Promise me is not…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Nerea” I cut her before she says his name, a name that I prohibited everyone to pronounce again in front of me. “It’s not him, he’ll never be, he…” I sigh, running my fingers through my hair until they find the tie that it’s holding my bun together, releasing the mess of brown strands that now fall free.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure? Why keep it a secret then? You know I’m not going to tell anyone”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because…” I look through the window, hoping in vain to see him again, knowing that he is long gone. “Because the time we had today was only ours. Nobody else knows what actually happened, or in your case, with whom happened. If I say it out loud... I’m scared I’d ruin it because then it won’t be only ours. That intimacy will be lost and… It won’t be special anymore. Does it make any sense?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, silence. And a long sigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know that this is how the whole ‘How to get away with murder’ show starts, right? With that girl being killed without revealing who her so beloved Mr. Darcy was.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m pretty sure he’s not going to send anyone to kill me” I say, laughing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m only saying that you better don’t expect me joining a law course and put myself in danger only to solve your murder.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, my ghost won’t haunt you down unless it’s to have some margaritas together” we laugh, which feels so good. “Are you mad at me for cancelling?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah. It’s ok. You’re free to have some fun. But girl, promise me that you’re not falling in love with someone who is going to leave after tomorrow. It really broke you the last time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was totally different, and you know it. Besides, I'm not planning anything. I just… I haven’t felt this good in so long, I only want one more day of that. If nothing happens, if we just talk, it will be fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I play with the end of my dress with my fingers, still looking through the window to the dark urban night. Am I really being totally honest with myself with that?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok girl, but please, be careful” I hear Nerea saying to me on the phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will” I reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love you too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence sets on the apartment finally. All the joy I felt when I first phoned Nerea has now turned into a bittersweet feeling I can’t really define. I can only hope that I’m right and this isn’t going to hurt me when he’s gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next day starts rainy, and I wonder if we’ll have to cancel the plan after all, but luckily, the rain stops by noon, only leaving behind some clouds that block the sun. I wait for Henry at the fountain next to the restaurant we went to last night, but this time <a href="https://i.pinimg.com/564x/58/48/5e/58485e6e2c6b55b1f3500924b02fbaa1.jpg">dressing more comfortably</a>. Loose hair, jeans, a grey sweater, my long brown jacket, and no heels this time, instead a pair of white sneakers, which probably will make the height difference between us funnier, though I’m tall compared to the rest of my friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I check the time on my phone for the third time. It’s past the hour we said yesterday. Maybe he forgot. Maybe he thought better and he’s not coming. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why would he, anyway? He must have more interesting things to do.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But then he appears, true to his promise, half running the last steps until he’s next to me. I smile when I see him, calming the nerves that have started growing in me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. The interview took longer than I anticipated, and then I couldn’t remember how to get here again. Have you been waiting a long time?” He combs the wild strands of his hair with his fingers, looking as handsome as he looked yesterday. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not enough to make me leave, apparently” I answer, hands in my pockets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I give him a minute to catch his breath again, and then we start our small tour around some interesting places. I show him some of the old parts of the city, the ones that are more beautiful, with flowers and plants at every corner. We buy some take-away coffee to have while we walk. He seems to enjoy every place I show him, since the outside of the cathedral and the most visited squares, to the vintage shops, bohemian cafés and some more hidden places around the area I use to visit more often. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it doesn’t last long until people start to recognise Henry, and, while at first it’s something bearable, when he stops for taking some pics, more people notice him too, and it’s slowly turning into something difficult to manage. I even have to put on my sunglasses and my hood in order to not make myself viral on the internet. At some point, he looks at me, guilt all over his face. I want to tell him it’s not his fault, that I’m not upset or anything, but there’s a lot of people who could hear that and I don’t dare to say it in order to not drag attention to myself. When the thing looks about to be out of control, he suddenly changes his mood, and politely tells the small crowd of people that has gathered around us that he apologises, but he needs to be elsewhere soon. Some people are less happy than others, definitely, but they finally let us continue, and in order to not fall into the same situation again, I change my plans and take him to an old course of a river that crosses the city, which has now turned into a walk through green space that ends at the seafront promenade. Down there, people are focused either on exercising, or walking their dogs. Trees and vegetation hide us better as we walk. Nobody pays us any attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry” it’s the first thing he says once we’re safe and alone again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s ok. I should have guessed something like this could happen. It’s not your fault at all” I reply, taking down my hood, and my glasses up to my hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should have guessed too, this follows me wherever I go” he insists.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No harm was done, let’s not worry anymore about it” I gently smile at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry smiles back at me, but I still see some culpability in his eyes, so I try to find something to talk about and make him forget about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you enjoy your stay here?” I ask, when nothing else comes to my mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So far so good. I’m sad I can’t stay longer” he looks at me when he says that, as if there is a hidden meaning in those words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can always come back. I can arrange a better tour than this one” I joke, making him smile as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds lovely, but I can’t see how you could top this one” I’m not sure if he’s joking or not, but he looks more relaxed now, so that’s a little victory for me. “But I do hope you can show me some new art pieces.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you getting into collecting art now?” I ask, jokingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only in order to save you from your boss” he jokes as well. “Why do you keep working for him? He definitely doesn’t look easy to handle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I look at the brick walk in front of us, thinking about how to answer that properly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanted to learn from him. And I did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry seems to wait for a more elaborate answer, but it doesn’t come. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, this is what you want for your future? Being the hand in the shadows from this old guy who takes all the glory? There’s something else you must want for your life to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At first there was, yes. But now… I don’t know, it just feels stupid” I shrug, hands in my pockets, looking at the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, I’m sure it’s not” he insists, elbowing me gently. That unexpected contact seems to wake me from my own melancholy. I look at him, and he holds my gaze. Somehow, those eyes make me feel everything is possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d like to open my own gallery” I say, looking back to the ground again. “I want to be better. I know I’m already better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what’s stopping you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Money” I answer. Of course, for someone like him, money is nothing to worry about. “It takes a lot to start from the ground. I have some savings, but it’s not enough. And I’d need Cabrera’s good references to borrow money, which he clearly won’t give to me because he’s very competitive and won’t make it easy for me. Starting in a new place would be easier but… Again, money.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I sigh and let the topic die. I’ve thought about this so many times, and I just kept telling myself I didn’t have enough savings yet, so I’ve been delaying it for a long time, until my passion has been buried under a pile of self-pity. Henry is considered enough to not keep pushing the subject, but I can feel his eyes on me from time to time, as we keep walking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So” I break the silence set between us. “What about you? Have you reached your goals in life? Are you at the point you’d like yourself to be?” I ask, ominously, half smiling, trying to downplay the issue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Truth being said, I’m far from it” he doesn’t sound hurt when he says it, but it makes me turn my face to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think a successful acting career is all I want from life?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope not. I consider you deeper than that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really do read people quite well, don’t you?” he smiles at me, but then it’s him who averts his gaze and looks at the path in front of us. “I’d like to start a family someday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I look at him, slowing my steps a little without noticing and fixing it when I realize. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing, is just…” I struggle to find the words, but he’s still looking at me, so I can’t just drop the subject and let it be. “I thought it would be easier for you to find someone. Now I realize it was a dumb thought. I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not dumb at all. It has been easier for some of my career colleagues. But when I’ve tried it just… Didn’t turn out well. So I stopped trying” he shrugs, rubbing his fingers through his nape, like he’s doubting about saying something else about it or not. “Is just… it’s being difficult to find someone who is… who just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really understands?” I find the words for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>We look at each other, his eyes meeting mine, and he slowly nods. I’d never thought that, for someone who always is smiling, who always looks happy, he’d feel so lonely after all. There is an instant in which I feel the sudden urge to just tell him it will be ok, that he’ll find someone to start his family with, and find the happiness he obviously deserves, but that instant fades quickly, and we both walk in silence until, finally, we end at the promenade. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Since it has been a weird weather day, the area is almost desertic. Maybe some walkers like us who are just passing by, even some doing the same at the sand of the beach. Some others are just having a drink at the few bars that are open, since it’s not summer season yet. We arrive at the veranda, half sitting on it in a way we are still looking at each other, but we can also enjoy the view of the sea, slowly getting darker because of the time of the day. It’s still cloudy, and now that we’re there, the sea breeze caresses both of us, messing with our hair, greeting us with its particular salty scent. As if I were staring at one of those paintings again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry looks at me, his perfectly shaved jaw from yesterday now showing signs of upcoming facial hair, and I look at him, trying to keep wild strands of my hair moved by the wind out of my face. We both know the day it’s close to the end, and with it, our little adventure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know…” he says after a moment of silence, trying to pick the right words. “I think you’d do great running a gallery on your own. You have an excellent taste, and better eye for good artists. And you know how to properly treat possible clients.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you” I say, feeling somehow comforted by it. Strange, since we barely know each other, yet we shared some deep words today.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you were given the perfect chance to open it…” he looks me right in the eye, a gaze I can’t avert. “Would you make it work? Would you take it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I take a few seconds, meditating my answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I suppose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then do it now” I frown, because I don’t know what he meant with that, but before I can ask, Henry keeps talking. “I can give you the money to open it. You won’t have to work for that dick anymore and start your own path. Regain your passion. Live the life you always wanted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What is he saying?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>My mouth opens, wordless, and closes again. My heart is a wild horse out of control, and my brain it’s still processing what he just told me. It takes me a couple of tries before being able to say something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Henry I… I can’t… This is crazy, I can’t accept it” I manage to say in a weak tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can” he insists. “You worked hard for it, you deserve it. You said you would take the chance, then take it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t take your money!” I exclaim, getting on my feet and start pacing around, arms crossed over my chest, panic written all over my face. “It would take too much! And you barely know me! How on earth comes to your mind it’s a logical thing to do, to lend money to some girl you met just a day ago?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry stands up too and grabs my arms with his big and strong hands, keeping me in place, looking at him. For a second, I stop hearing the sea roaring, the wind howling, everything around me, since I can only hear my own heartbeat, faster than ever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes what someone needs is for someone else to have faith in them” he explains, calmly, looking directly into my eyes. “Call it a leap of faith from my part.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m trapped inside the blue of his eyes. There is something in them that gives me courage, gives me the confidence I’ve lacked all these years. Looking at his eyes I feel like I can do anything. Like everything is possible. Even dreaming big.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only if you’re a part of it” I finally say without averting my gaze yet. “It’d feel less like a charity work and more like a business partnership.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man seems to think about it, but finally nods. He doesn’t let me go yet, which I’m thankful for, because my legs won’t support me right now. Carefully, he takes us to the veranda so we can sit on the cold stone again. His hands start to lighten his grip on my arms and slowly go down, where his fingers and mine entangle for a brief moment before separating completely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A business partnership it is, then” he says in a low voice. “We should discuss the details of this properly in the sooner future. Everything up to you. I only have one requirement.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which one?” I ask, still a bit stunned after everything that just happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would it be a trouble for you to move to London?”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Picture links words guide:</p><p>For the outfit: "but this time dressing more comfortably"</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. London Calling</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After Henry's proposal, Arlet decides to move to London, where she will work hard to make sure Henry didn't put that much money in vain. However, work is not everything in life, as Henry will show her.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The last couple of months have been crazy. A lot of contracts were signed, boxes were both packed and unpacked, tears between friends and relatives were shed when the moment of departure arrived, and new promises were made of visits and parties for the future. I can’t believe I did the craziest thing in my life.</p><p>I moved to London.</p><p>It was the most logical thing to do after all. That way I could have a fresh new start in one of the most important cities with a big cultural center, find new and fresh artists looking for a chance to get known, and it was also easier for Henry to check on me when it was required, which wasn’t a lot after the first two weeks. After all the paperwork related to the new venue and its very much needed renovations was done, he left everything to me, as we agreed previously, and now I only contact him when it’s really important, which I try not to do. It’s not only that I don’t want to bother him, I know he is busy, it’s also that I’m still a bit upset about all of this. I am thankful, of course I am, but somehow feels like I don’t deserve any of this, so I need to put twice my efforts into working hard on it.</p><p>I didn’t ask for his help in the first place. And yet, here we are. </p><p>But deep inside me I know I’m upset because I really needed someone’s help, and he listened to me better than I did myself. And maybe it’s also because I’m scared. He put a big amount of money in this risky bet and I’m so scared to fail him. Hard work silences those thoughts, burying them under a pile of stress, sleep deprival and an endless list of things to do. </p><p>It’s been almost two months since I agreed to this crazy adventure, and I’m not less scared than I was that day.</p><p>“When do you think you’ll be done with the floor?” I ask my contractor while we both walk over several wooden planks put as a temporary solution until we’re in front of my desk, next to the large glass walls that offer a good view of the street. I place the recyclable cup with my recently bought coffee in a safe place away from all the papers and I turn to the other side of the table.</p><p>“Soon, Miss. One of the guys hurt his back picking his kid up at home the other day and we have one man less on the team for now. But it will be done on time” the man answers. One of the reasons I like him is because he's a hard worker, and always honest with me.</p><p>“I hope it’s nothing too bad. Will he be ok?” I say as I sit on my chair and start looking through some papers, removing a couple of hair strands that escaped from my messy bun and got their way to my face.</p><p>“Sure, he’s a tough man. Some rest will do.”</p><p>We spend the next ten minutes talking about the lights on the first and the second floor. The gallery itself was initially a big single story space, but I insisted to build a second one, since the ceilings are so high it would be a waste of space and money to not take advantage of that, and it was easily doable without it turning out to be a claustrophobic space, since the second floor only makes a tour around the different walls, leaving a void in the center. The only exception I made for this was in the area I have my “office”. Next to the huge glass and iron doors, there are a few steps that raise part of the ground, which I decided to use as my “three” walls office, being one of those three the large windows next to the doors that reach the ceiling. The opposite wall to the windows is an enormous concrete wall that separates my space from the rest of the gallery. It looks so naked now, but I’m planning to put something on there in the future. </p><p>“Do you think we’ll be done with it on time?” I ask him, closing my thin, linen jacket feeling a bit cold. I’m still not used to London’s weather, so I always carry a <a href="https://i.pinimg.com/564x/14/38/d2/1438d268bb4276541148f6b1f8bd8442.jpg">jacket</a> with me, though thin, because even when spring is close to an end, I might regret wearing a tanktop later if it turns out to be a colder day than I anticipated.</p><p>“Once we’re done with the floors, sure. It will be easier from there.”</p><p>One of the advantages of having my desk next to the glass walls is that, having such views of the street, I can see Henry way before he enters the gallery. I send the contractor back to work and I hurry up to check my agenda, because I don’t recall having a meeting with him today. It’s not written down, in fact, which it can only mean it’s a surprise visit. Two months of meetings and it’s the first time he does that.</p><p>Henry walks in dressed in casual clothes, a dark green sweater and some used jeans, sign that he’s not as busy today as usual, and walks directly to my desk, where I can’t pretend I didn’t notice him anymore. I’d always notice him, anywhere, anytime, but I don’t want him to know that. </p><p>“I’m sorry sir, but we’re still closed, come back in three weeks, we’ll be glad to assist you” I joke when he’s close enough to hear me, still looking at my papers.</p><p>“I’d like to speak to your boss then” he jokes back, walking until he’s in front of the desk, hands inside his pockets, smile on his lips. </p><p>“That can be done” I smile back, setting the papers aside, taking a sip from the remains of my coffee. “What are you doing here? I didn’t expect to see you today.”</p><p>“Well, if you knew it wouldn’t have been a surprise” he walks around the table and sits on the edge of it, next to where I have my chair. “You’re working a lot lately, I’ve barely seen you outside a meeting, and we don’t talk unless it’s for work, so I wanted to know if you’re doing ok.”</p><p>“So far so good” I answer, leaning back on my chair, looking up to meet his eyes, and hoping he doesn’t notice I haven’t had a decent sleep in weeks. “I’m tougher than I look. You should have seen me at college. How have you been? I imagined you’d be busy.”</p><p>He combs his hair, a bit longer than the day we met, using his fingers, a gesture I have seen him make more than once by now and feels natural on him. I notice that he hasn’t shaved in a day or two, as I can see the beginning of a short stubble on his jaw. </p><p>“I’m fine. Having a bit of spare time, actually, and I wanted to make sure you have some as well.”</p><p>“Why? I’m sure you must have better things to do than babysitting me, Henry” I say in a gentle tone he’s already familiar with.</p><p>“When was the last time you took a free day? The last time you went out with someone to just chill?”</p><p>“I don’t need free days, I can rest at night while I’m sleeping” I lie, because not even then I can get some decent rest. I take the papers back and I start speed reading them as I talk to him. “And I don’t know anyone here to hang out with.”</p><p>“Exactly” he takes the papers from my hand and places them on the desk again, away from my reach. “It’s been two months since you moved. I’m the only one you know here and I feel responsible for that, since I was the one making you move to another country. Let me take you out a bit. Show you around, like you did with me.”</p><p>“Maybe another day. There’s still a lot to do in here and we’re already late on…”</p><p>“It can wait” he interrupts me, calmly, but firm. “You hired an assistant for a reason. You’ve been working a lot since the very beginning, don’t think that I didn’t notice. You’ll be at the edge of burnout if you don’t take care of yourself.”</p><p>I look at him, then at the pile of papers on my desk, and I let go a deep sigh before getting up and walking the four steps down to the area under renovation, spotting Vesta, my new assistant that I hired a few days ago, supervising the workers that are installing the lamps on the main floor now, an heroic task having in mind the floor is still half done. I walk carefully over the wooden planks so I don’t stumble, thankful for having been smart enough to not wear heels today, until I reach the point where they’re at.</p><p>“Vesta, I need you for a minute here” I say, interrupting her task.</p><p>“Coming Miss…”</p><p>“Don’t you dare to say it. I told you to call me Arlet” I interrupt her before she even finishes the sentence. Miss Caronte sounds too much for me.</p><p>“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”</p><p>Vesta walks quickly to my side, more than ready to help. She’s a girl around her early twenties, a little bit shorter than me, blonde hair, short at shoulders height, now tied up in a messy ponytail with some wild strands that escape from it. She’s always ready and willing, that’s why I hired her. The girl also is eager to learn, which reminds me of myself when I was at her position so many years ago, but I will not make the same mistakes Cabrera did with me. I need her trust, as she needs mine, so that means that, if there is ever a problem, she needs to know I will help to solve it myself if she can’t handle it alone, rather than blaming her and calling her useless for not knowing how to, and eventually she’ll learn herself. </p><p>“I’m gonna be out for a couple of hours probably” actually I don’t know how much time Henry will have me away from work, but knowing him, probably more than that. “I will try to come back earlier but not making any promises here. You’re gonna be in charge today.”</p><p>“You don’t have to worry about anything, Arlet, I’m aware of all the things that are to be done and…” </p><p>I see her looking right behind me and her face turning pure white, as if she’s seen a ghost. When I turn my head to see what’s going on, I see Henry some steps back, waving at us when I turn to look at him. Vesta moves her hand a little bit, a mere attempt to wave, but she’s mostly frozen in place.</p><p>Of course. He has that effect on people.</p><p>“Could you <em> please </em> wait for me outside?” I ask him, making myself heard above all the noise from the workers.</p><p>“All right, but if you’re not out in five minutes I will drag you out myself” he says, raising his voice as well so I can hear him.</p><p>I try not to smile, but I barely manage to hide it from him when I turn back to my assistant again, who is still with her eyes fixed on him as he walks out.</p><p>“Vesta” I claim her attention back to me snapping my fingers.</p><p>“Sorry, sorry” she hurries to apologise.</p><p>“You’re going to see him around a lot, ok? He’s your boss too. You’ll get used to it eventually” <em> though I haven’t yet, and it’s been two months </em>, I think to myself.</p><p>“<em> He </em> is also my boss?” she asks in a whisper out of incredulity. “I thought he just came to take you on a date or something!”</p><p>“Vesta, please, focus. I don’t have much time” I try very hard to not blush on that and focus on the matter now. Besides, I don’t want to know if he was being serious about dragging me outside and making a scene of it. </p><p>“Of course, sorry.”</p><p>We recap everything that needs to be done for the day and I add a couple more of my tasks to her list since I’m going to be out god knows for how long. Once I’m sure she has everything under control, I take a deep breath and walk my way back to the door, still not sure about Henry’s plan, but not seeing a way out of it. He’s waiting for me outside, back facing the door, eyes wandering around the street. </p><p>“I’m going to ban you from here, you scare my assistant” I say to make him aware of my presence.</p><p>Henry turns to face me, smiling brightly. He really looks like a dream at this very moment. Now that he’s here, <em> really </em> here, actually available for some time with me, I’m aware of how much I’ve missed him.</p><p>“I don’t know, the last assistant I met was very capable of handling me pretty well” he winks at me, and I can’t help a smile coming to my lips.</p><p>“Please don’t scare my assistant.”</p><p>We start walking, I don’t know where to. I just let Henry take the lead. Around us, people walk by, barely noticing us, minding their own business, and I wonder how long it will take for someone to recognise him again, like they did back in my hometown, or if it will happen at all this time. He doesn’t look worried though, probably knowing better than me the behaviour of those who wander by in this city. </p><p>By the two months I’ve been living here, I have get used to a lot of things, but the reverse driving direction from cars is not one of them, so when we’re about to cross the street, Henry grabs my arm and pulls me back, making me stumble and fall against his chest, just right when a car passes by at high speed coming from the opposite direction I was looking at. There is a moment of silence between us in which I’m still assimilating what almost happened, my back still against Henry’s chest, his hand still grabbing my arm, and the other one resting gently on my hip, like wanting to pull me even closer to him but not daring to.</p><p>“Oops” I say, downplaying the issue.</p><p>“Oops? Is that all you have to say?” he asks, still not letting go. Like if we both were trying to delay the time to break that contact.</p><p>“Yes. Actually, no. Why can’t you guys drive normal? Like the rest of the world” I say, separating from him a little.</p><p>His hand releases my arm, but the other one is still placed on my hip, and when I move, it slowly slides to my back in a gentle caress. I believe this is the longest contact we’ve ever had, and honestly, I wouldn’t mind if it never ended.</p><p>I look at Henry and he has this expression of concern and relief, all mixed in one. At the end, he gives me half a smile.</p><p>“Be careful, please” he says, arching one of his eyebrows.</p><p>“I’ll live” I reply, as I start walking, this time crossing safely. </p><p>The contact finally breaks.</p><p>“I’d hate to have to look for a substitute for the gallery” I hear him say right behind me as he follows.</p><p>“Huh, how funny.”</p><p>The walk takes us to one of the entrances to Hyde Park from the South Kensington area. It’s very green, trees all over the place, and wide. I would probably not know how to find the exit if I went by myself. I look around me with curious eyes, understanding instantly why he has taken me here. There are not many people here now, a working day, on working hours, only a few relaxing, like us, or exercising. The noise of the traffic gets behind the more we get ourselves into the immense extension of the park. It’s calm. Peaceful. </p><p>“A bit of paradise between chaos” I say, as we walk along the path. </p><p>“Nice, isn’t it?” </p><p>A couple of clouds darken the sky, not much, but enough for me to close the thin jacket I’m wearing when a chill breeze of air blows fiercely against us. England’s weather is still wild for me. Another thing I haven’t gotten used to yet.</p><p>“I come here pretty often” he says as he approaches the nearest bench and takes a seat. “To exercise, to relax by myself, but mostly to walk with Kal.”</p><p>“Kal?” I ask, sitting next to him, still arms crossed over my chest in an attempt to keep my jacket closed.</p><p>“My best buddy, Kal. My dog” he explains, beaming at the mere mention of him.</p><p>“You didn’t tell me you have a dog!” I complain, pretending to be offended.</p><p>“I thought you might already know that” he replies, shrugging. “He’s well known over the internet.”</p><p>“Do you have any pictures?”</p><p>It's like saying the correct magic words. He pulls out his phone and we spend the next ten to fifteen minutes looking at pictures and videos from his American Akita, a very handsome dog, like his owner. Henry looks so fond of him, his sweet smile when he talks about Kal, shiny eyes when he looks at the pictures. Here it is, another thing I haven’t gotten used yet. The many ways Henry Cavill has of fascinating me.</p><p>“Would you like to meet him someday?” he asks, and if it wasn’t impossible, I’d swear I heard a touch of shyness on his voice when he says it. But it can’t be possible. Can it?</p><p>“That would be lovely” I accept, a soft grin blooming in my lips.</p><p>Our eyes meet when we’re not looking at the phone anymore. I get lost at the stormy blue of his, discovering new nuances every time I find myself diving in those endless pools. For a moment, it looks like we both want to say something, something important, but we’re stuck at each other’s eyes. And that moment, as all moments do, passes.</p><p>“So…” he breaks the silent pause that has set between us, looking away, probably trying to find something to say. “How have you been adapting to London? Is there anything I could help you with or…?”</p><p>“I’ve been doing good” I interrupt him, gently. “I know you’re busy, Henry, you don’t need to worry that much about me. I’ll be ok.”</p><p>“That’s the thing. I don’t want you to think I’m unavailable all the time. We can arrange something anytime. I like hanging out with you, I wouldn’t mind doing it more often.”</p><p>He looks completely honest when he says it, which only makes me smile a bit more. I nod, giving in, knowing it makes no sense to deny I want to spend more time with him too.</p><p>“Ok. Maybe that way you can make sure I don’t work too much either.” </p><p>And that’s how we both took the next step. We started as two strangers that met in a small gallery, then our path took an unexpected turn and we became more than that but it was something unlabelled, untitled, until that very moment in which we could finally call each other friends.</p><p>After that day, I started to sleep better too. Henry also made sure I had at least one free day every week, if not two. During the next couple of weeks we bonded a lot. He came to visit pretty often at the gallery and even helped me to elaborate a guest list for the opening party, including a lot of his friends that might be interested in buying or at least giving us some attention from the media, or went through some portfolios with me in order to help me choose and squeeze in a couple more artists in the first exhibition we’re hosting; those things he left me in charge of at the beginning of all this now peaked his interest more than before and he wanted to be a part of it as much as I was, or his work let him. And when we were not working, we were having lunch together while sharing stories, or having a late dinner in the gallery because we worked until a late hour, or also walking around, exploring the city and it’s many, many wonderful places. I also got the chance to meet Kal and we spent a whole wonderful afternoon playing with him at Hyde Park. One of my free days, Henry took me to the British Museum and we spent the whole day discovering every part of it, promising to take me to the National History Museum and the National Gallery too in the future. </p><p>My time in London was becoming more enjoyable, finally.</p><p>But even the ones that make our lives happier have bad days as well, as we all do, some might be easier to tell, some might be experts in hiding it, and we must pay attention to acknowledge when that might be happening, because that is when they’ll need us the most.</p><p>I notice Henry’s the very same moment he steps into the gallery. </p><p>He looks apparently normal for those who don’t know him, a polite smile on his face, nice words for whoever greets him. But I know today he’s not being the same happy, engaging man he always is. I can tell his smile is not the real one, his words are empty shells of courtesy, and also some small details, like he’s frowning a little more than usual, his eyes wander around instead of focusing on the person he’s talking to, and his hands inside his pockets all the time, when usually he tends to gesticulate when he talks. </p><p>When he finally arrives at my desk, I leave all of my papers aside, knowing exactly what to do.</p><p>“Just in time for lunch. Wanna join me?” I ask, giving him my best understanding smile.</p><p>“Of course” this time, when he smiles, it’s his real smile, the one I know, and not the fake one.</p><p>We leave the gallery, which is in its final stages of being done with the renovation and storing the art pieces that are already arriving to us, and we have a nice walk to our favorite close cafeteria, the one placed at the Holland Park, which has some nice outside tables and a bit of privacy at the same time.</p><p>After taking a seat and ordering something quick to eat, he seems to be a bit more relaxed than he was before, but I know something happened today, and if he’s not talking about it, I definitely have to ask, for all those times he’s been there for me, which have not been a few precisely.</p><p>“What’s bugging you today, Henry?” I ask in a soft voice.</p><p>After the initial surprise, he gives me half a sad smile before looking away. Leaning back on his chair, his elbow resting on the table, and his thumb caressing the line of his jaw, freshly shaved from that day, Henry seems to be deciding if he wants to talk about it or not, but finally he lets go a sigh and looks at me.</p><p>“I guess I’m not as good an actor as I thought I was if I couldn’t hide it from you” he jokes, frowning a little.</p><p>“You are. But I’m a better reader” I beam fondly.</p><p>“You need to tell me how you do that.”</p><p>“I will, but after you tell me what has you in this mood today” I know when to push the subject and when not to. I know I can still insist a bit more before giving up. “I’m a good listener.”</p><p>Still in that pose, he looks like he’s studying me in ways I can’t guess. I hold his gaze, wondering what he is thinking about.</p><p>“I was turned down for a role I really wanted” he finally says, turning his gaze at his half eaten food on the table. “I got a call from my agent this morning.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“They were deciding between me and another guy. And they went for the other one” he shrugs, putting his hand down on the table, then sighs and looks at me. “Things like this happen all the time, I thought you already had enough things to worry about. I didn’t want to add one more to the list.”</p><p>“At this point you’re always on that list” I smile at him, putting my hand over his. “It’s their loss. They don’t know how a magnificent actor they’re missing.”</p><p>Henry’s expression is difficult to read for a brief instant, even for me. He looks at our hands, slightly closing his over mine, and gives me a new smile, a softer one, a real one. </p><p>I was already well aware that I liked Henry. I liked him since the very first time we talked, actually talked, not the art conversation in the small gallery I worked at, but real talk, the one we had having dinner that very same night. But now it’s different. It’s like everything I thought I knew collapsed and gave way to something else, something that has been growing in secret and which roots have been expanding underneath the surface, until it came its time to bloom.</p><p>It occurs to me, at that very place, at that very moment, that I might be falling in love with him.</p><p>And that is so scary.</p><p>‘<em> Be careful. It really broke you the last time </em>’ Nerea’s words come to my mind, a reminder of how much I have suffered in the past.</p><p>I remove my hand, not abruptly, since I don’t want to be rude, but gently, and as an excuse to do so I take my glass of water and take a sip. Henry, unaware of what has gone through my mind during the last seconds, looks like he has released some of the weight he carried on his shoulders.</p><p>“Thanks” he says, smiling softly at me. “For caring.”</p><p>“We’re friends, aren’t we?” I say. “As long as that is, I’ll always care.”</p><p>That seems to improve his mood for the rest of the day.</p><p>The opening party approaches now at the speed of light. Another week passed and we’re only a day away from that moment. Henry insisted on making a brief interview in order to put us on international media, and, knowing that it’s the best for our business, I agreed to that, but anything that has to do with cameras doesn’t make me feel any good.</p><p>The studio is a small one Henry has already recorded some interviews at. There’s only a big white wall, a couple of chairs for us, another one for the interviewer, a small table with water in case we need them, and everything else is backstage. Right now, Henry is talking to the owner, apparently knowing each other well enough to make some jokes and share a laugh. He doesn’t look nervous at all. Of course he doesn’t, he’s done this a hundred times. This is like breathing for him. But for me? Huh, that’s another story.</p><p>I check my <a href="https://i.pinimg.com/564x/c4/78/e1/c478e1c0105fd01d56b5831410760512.jpg">clothes</a> once again in front of the mirror. A white blouse with black suit pants. I have the feeling like it’s too formal. Or maybe too simple. Am I wearing too much makeup?</p><p>
  <em> Oh god, I hope I don’t start sweating now. </em>
</p><p>As he could hear my thoughts, Henry appears behind me, looking at me in the reflection of the mirror. He’s wearing something simple too, casual and elegant. A black shirt, with the first buttons undone and a bit of his chest hair showing, and grey suit pants. He has clean shaved for the occasion as well, and his hair is combed back.</p><p>“You look great, just relax” he says.</p><p>“Easier said than done” I complain, finally turning away from the mirror and facing him. “You do this for a living, but I haven’t done this in my life.”</p><p>He walks a couple of steps until he’s right in front of me, putting his enormous hands on my shoulders and looking me right in the eye.</p><p>“You’re more than ready for this. You’ll do great” his faith in me doesn’t seem to help me at all, and he seems to notice. “Doesn’t matter what I tell you, does it? Let me show you a trick that has helped me over the years. I still use it if I have to attend somewhere and I’m not in the right mood for it.”</p><p>“Do you still get nervous at this kind of things?” I turn again and check my hair in the mirror. Maybe letting it loose was a bad idea and I should do something with it. Or not. </p><p>“Sometimes. Or sometimes it's just that I’m having a bad day but I have to do it anyway, because work is work. Ok, now, breathe, close your eyes and focus on my voice. Only on my voice.”</p><p>I do so. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, getting the faint scent of his cologne, mixed with his aftershave. I feel his hands on my shoulders again, which makes it easier to keep my concentration on his voice. </p><p>“Now” I hear his voice so much closer than I anticipated and I shudder, being even more conscious now about how his hands feel on me, warm, heavy, almost skin to skin, only separated by the thin fabric of my blouse. “Imagine you’re far away from here. You’re in a forest now. It’s calm, silent. A very peaceful place. With green, tall trees, leafy bushes at their feet, wild flowers all around you…” I let his voice guide me, somehow feeling it right in my ear, as if he’s just whispering right into it. “There is someone else there with you. Someone you know and is dear to you. A person you trust and feel comfortable with. Can you think about someone?”</p><p>I nod, still eyes closed, as an image of Henry appears in my mental forest. He has that smile that shows his pointy fangs, that one that I find so cute. In my mind, I smile back at him the same way.</p><p>“What you’re seeing now, what you’re feeling now, keep it with you all through the interview. That calm will remain there with you, and when the questions come, imagine you’re talking to that person. Just a friendly talk between you and someone you trust” his voice is intoxicating, so close, so much close it’s a warm embrace all over my soul. His scent, his magnificent scent is all around me, making the rest of my senses go numb, but I still feel something kind of caressing part of my hair, near my neck. Strange, because both of his hands are still over my shoulders. “You can open your eyes when you’re ready.”</p><p>This time his voice sounds far. When I open my eyes, he’s right there where I saw him before, reflected in the mirror, but there’s something in his expression that is different now. Something I can’t really tell. </p><p>“Did it work?” he asks, apparently normal, trying to hide whatever that is.</p><p>“Yes” I nod, looking at him thoroughly, trying to decipher what it is, what has changed. “It worked.”</p><p>“If you guys are ready we can start now” the loud voice of the owner of the studio wakes us both from whatever dream we were immersed in. </p><p>The interviewer turns out to be a girl around my age, maybe a bit older, I can’t be sure. However, she looks more interested in Henry than me, something I can’t blame her for, to be honest, but when she starts to make questions, she gives us both the same attention, which at least shows some professionalism on her part. Thanks to Henry’s trick I don’t stumble with words or explanations about the gallery, I don’t feel like I’m explaining something super boring to someone who doesn’t care about it, more like I’m back into that afternoon with Henry, the day we met, when I talked to him about my favorite art pieces. Whenever I talk, he looks at me with genuine attention, doesn’t matter he already knows what I’m saying.</p><p>Then it’s Henry’s turn to explain more or less the same I just did, but from his own point of view. He has a way with words that I’ll never have, avoids the parts he doesn’t really want to answer, like how we actually decided to associate and run a gallery together, which we agreed to change the story to something more “believable” than the real one; or when the girl tries to make him answer something about his current projects, a more convoluted way of asking about his movies, he redirects the question again to the gallery in a polite way, but I can tell he’s starting to get more upset with each question that tries to focus on him. However, there is one question that manages to make him snap like I have never seen before.</p><p>“There have been some rumours that you might be dating someone…”</p><p>“I’m gonna stop you right there” Henry interrupts her abruptly, clearly done with her. “No. I’m not dating anyone, and it’s not in my plans to have a relationship any time soon. We’re not here to talk about my personal life, so you either reconsider your questions or we’re done here.</p><p>He’s angry, and I’ve never seen him angry before.</p><p>The interviewer seems to blank out for a second, face turning red. Mumbles an apology and checks her notes, searching probably for some new question that has nothing to do with Henry’s personal life. I look at him as discreetly as I can, not because I’m hiding it from him, but because we’re still in front of the cameras. He seems to be thinking the same, because I get a brief, discreet glance from him. I don’t know if it’s because we’re spending so much time together lately, but I’d swear that was an apology to me. </p><p>I don’t dare to ask about it later, when we’re alone at the gallery. Henry doesn’t bring up the subject either. It’s one of those things he might need some space to think about, or not to think at all, and he doesn’t owe me an explanation either anyway. His private life is his own, and while I had seen a glimpse of it, that doesn’t mean I have the right to know everything, so I leave it be. </p><p>“I believe everything is ready” I say, quite late in the night, after a whole afternoon of preparations. “I will double check tomorrow morning anyway, but we can go home for today.”</p><p>There’s only the two of us at the gallery at this hour. I sent everybody home to get some well deserved rest before the big day. Only Henry stayed with me, checking every piece matched its label, no crooked paintings, or forgotten bolts on the ground. Paperwork done, everything in its place, there is nothing left to do for the day.</p><p>I contemplate the whole gallery a few steps away from the door. Now, with paintings on its walls, the correct lights, empty and silent as it is, it looks like everything I ever wanted. And I finally got it thanks to him, to the man standing next to me, his eyes traveling around the place like mine. I look at Henry, who takes a bit to realize about it, but then holds my gaze in a moment that belongs only to us.</p><p>“You made this possible, do you know that?” I tell him. “I can never thank you enough.”</p><p>He gives me half a smile.</p><p>“You don’t need to. One time is more than enough” he says, his earlier bad mood being only a vague memory by now. “Besides, I also benefit from this.”</p><p>“I know.” </p><p>We take a last look at our project, the biggest project I’ve faced in all my life. It took us so much work and effort that now seeing it like that feels almost like a dream. It was a long, winding road, I’m grateful to have been able to get this far, with the new friend I made along the way. We turn off the lights, we walk through the door. London’s dark sky greets us, its streets still full of life despite the late hour.</p><p>“I’ll walk you home” he says.</p><p>“You don’t need to” I say, since I live only five minutes away.</p><p>“But I want to” he insists.</p><p>Both of us walk in silence, as tired as we are, having burned all our caffeine reserves hours ago, but during all the way there, Henry looks like he wants to say something, it’s just words don’t seem to come at him. I don’t force it. Whatever it is, he will find a way sooner or later if it’s important enough. We don’t need to fill silence to enjoy each other’s company, and that’s something I really like.</p><p>“Well” I say when we finally reach my building. “See you at the party?”</p><p>The man gives me a soft, honest, tender smile, a smile that is also on his eyes.</p><p>“See you at the party” he promises.</p><p>
  <em> I could kiss him right now. </em>
</p><p>We have a brief moment of silence, delaying the goodbye, but finally I end up walking up the stairs that lead to the building’s door and disappearing inside. Barely three months ago, when I first met him and he walked me home, I had the same feeling in my stomach that I have tonight. Back then everything was so uncertain, I wasn’t sure if I was going to see him again, but today I know his promises remain unbroken.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Henry</b>
</p><p>
  <em> One week earlier </em>
</p><p>She always has the particularity of making every day much better than it started whenever I see her, but today she outdid herself in the best of ways. I thought I was good at hiding my bad days, but Arlet was able to read through my disguise as nobody has ever done before. She has been able to do so since the first day we met. And probably because of that I wanted to keep her near me in the first place.</p><p>With her, a role rejection doesn’t feel that bad.</p><p>Back at the gallery after that brief lunch, everything feels much better thanks to her. Also keeping myself busy with whatever she needs me to do is helpful too. We’re reviewing the guest list once more, considering adding some more of my friends to the list, when my phone starts ringing.</p><p>“I have to answer” I say, as I see my agent’s contact on the screen. “I’ll be right back.”</p><p>“Ok, but don’t take too long or I’ll start panicking with all of these names” she jokes, with that smile on her face that makes me wonder how I haven’t kissed her yet.</p><p>I pick up the phone when I’m outside the gallery, a hand in my pocket, pacing around, hearing my agent’s voice on the other side of the line.</p><p>“Hi Henry, bud, I have good news for you” he says.</p><p>“Make it quick, Marco, I’m busy here” I say, turning to see Arlet taking a look at some papers through the gallery’s glass walls.</p><p>“Sure. Turns out you got the role. The director had his differences with the cast director, apparently, and he wants you.”</p><p>“Oh, awesome!” Those are, indeed, some good news. For some reason, the first thing that comes to my mind is Arlet. I can’t wait to tell her. “When do we sign the contract?”</p><p>“They want you to be in Yorkshire next week."</p><p>“Wait, wait, wait. Next week?”</p><p>“Yeah, with all of this change of opinions between directors they are a couple of weeks late on schedule, so you’ll be there for taking measurements for the suits, script reading, all that” Marco explains. “Nothing new, you’ve worked on worse schedules.”</p><p>“I can’t be there next week. I have a thing here.”</p><p>“Oh, that gallery thing. Can’t you reschedule that or something?”</p><p>“Impossible” Arlet has waited so long for this, I can’t do that to her.</p><p>“Then miss it. Don’t you have an associate to take care of that?”</p><p>“Marco, what if instead of trying to convince me don’t you try to buy me another week of time?” I ask, starting to get pissed.</p><p>“Henry, this is important. They are quite late on schedule, they can’t wait anymore. If you don’t go there next week, you’ll certainly lose the role and they’ll give it to the one available.”</p><p>I look at Arlet through the window, who is now talking to Vesta. She looks full of energy, directing everyone on her charge with class and familiarity. The girl definitely loves what she’s doing and it shows on her face, making her more beautiful under the sunlight she receives from that angle. I can’t forget she left his home, his friends, everything she ever knew, only because I asked her to. Only because I wanted her around me.</p><p>“Well, they better give it to him then. I’m not going anywhere next week, Marco. Is my final word.”</p><p>I hang up, not waiting for a response. I take a few more minutes of watching her work, how she puts some strands of her hair back to the messy bun she has, while she reads something from the tablet device she’s holding. Then, I go back inside. </p><p>“Finally” she says when I arrive next to her, smiling at me. “What was it?”</p><p>I shrug, both hands in my pocket.</p><p>“Nothing important.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This has been my favorite chapter until now, I hope you had as much fun reading it as I had writing it. </p><p>For those who need confimation: yes, Henry almost kissed her neck on the "close your eyes" moment. He had to hold himself a lot to not to ;)</p><p>Link words guide:<br/>Outfit 1: "I always carry a jacket with me"<br/>Outfit 2: "I check my clothes once again"</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The last day of spring</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's the night of the opening party, a night none of them, Arlet and Henry, will forget easily.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Today is the day. I could barely sleep tonight of pure nerves, despite being so tired from yesterday. The alarm on my phone won’t stop ringing, demanding me to move my ass out of bed. I turn it off, but I still lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, worrying about all the things that could go terribly wrong today. It even crosses my mind that the whole building could set on fire. I take that as a sign to get out of bed and go take a shower. </p><p>When I arrive at the gallery, some space outside it’s already fenced for the press and some curious fans that might show up, knowing Henry’s fame and the one of some of the guests we’re having. I spend the morning working with Vesta, polishing all the details. Since it would be ridiculous to spend all day working with our party dresses on, we have them kept at the secret office, a room with a couple of couches and a coffee table, thought especially for dealing with the sales paperwork, a common use desk, which mostly Vesta uses since I have mine outside, and extra space to store more pieces in the future. That way, when there’s only an hour left, we get in there to prepare ourselves.</p><p>I tie my hair up in a more <a href="https://i.pinimg.com/564x/dd/5d/51/dd5d5111ee48000158411276bcd2a92f.jpg">sophisticated bun</a> than the ones I normally do, leaving some strands of brown hair loose, and my <a href="https://i.pinimg.com/564x/3b/41/c1/3b41c11053dd80e100dd6501f3011fa1.jpg">dress</a> for tonight is of a nice navy blue color, with small fake crystals stitched to it, very elegant. The front part has a discreet cleavage, and a partial opening on the side of one of the thighs, but the back is completely open, the only exception being a few straps crossing in diagonal. My heels for the occasion are discreet and more or less comfortable, since I’ll have to wear them for hours. </p><p>“Whoa, you look wonderful!” Vesta exclaims when she sees me after I’ve finished. For tonight, she is wearing a stylish red wine dress, very appropriate for a party, and for work. </p><p>“So do you, dear. Look at you” I smile at her.</p><p>Back to the main area of the gallery, I can see Henry has arrived as well and is talking to one of the guys from the catering service. He’s wearing a dark grey suit, which when I look closely I realize it has a very subtle plaid pattern. Under it, he’s wearing a white shirt, the first couple of buttons undone, like yesterday at the interview, showing a bit of chest hair. On his left hand, a gold ring on his little finger. He looks so handsome he manages to leave us both, Vesta and I, frozen in place. </p><p>“I know I’m going to sound very unprofessional but holy fuck…” Vesta whispers next to me. “How do you manage to work when he’s around?”</p><p>The truth is, I don’t really know.</p><p>I walk the steps left until I’m next to him, moment in which he finally notices me and the first thing I see in his face is a big surprise, his lips opening slightly, as he looks at me from head to toe. I try to suppress my smile, slightly blushed. </p><p>“Wow” is all he says.</p><p>“How eloquent” I joke, this time unable to hide a smirk. “You look great too.”</p><p>He looks briefly down to his suit, caressing the fabric with the big palm of his hand, but his eyes come back to me in an instant, as if he was worried I could disappear in any moment.</p><p>“Sorry, you took me by surprise. You look…” he looks thoroughly at me, apparently unable to find the correct word he’s looking for.</p><p>“...good? Bad? Overdressed? As if I just fought a bunch of squirrels on my way here?” </p><p>He averts his gaze, smiling.</p><p>“Breathtaking” he finally says, and when he looks back at me, he fixes his eyes on mine.</p><p>I blush, a shy grin on my lips, forgetting all my nerves for a second. I don’t have time to answer, since we see people starting to gather at the door. Flash of lights start to happen, and then I realize the press has started their job. We are in a clear line of vision due to the poor privacy of the big glass walls of the gallery and they have probably spotted Henry. </p><p>“I guess it’s going to be like this for the rest of the night” I say, nerves coming back to me stronger than before.</p><p>I know this is necessary for the gallery promotion, but I don’t like cameras at all.</p><p>“It’s only for tonight. Everything will be back to normal tomorrow” Henry says, mindful of my issue with it since yesterday’s interview.</p><p>When I turn my gaze to him, he’s already looking at me, so I do the only thing I know I can do. Smile. And he does the same.</p><p>“Let’s go?” he asks.</p><p>“Let’s go.”</p><p>And so it begins.</p><p>The gallery is full of people barely an hour after its opening. Everybody is conversating, eating, drinking, looking at the pieces around them. We manage to sell some of them, in fact, as Vesta notifies me later. I’m busy most of the time trying to memorize all of the names of the people Henry introduces me to. Some of them I already know, since they’re famous actors as well, like Benedict Cumberbatch, Tilda Swinton or Natalie Dormer, some others are british tv people I am not familiar with at all since I come from another country, and some others are just Henry’s anonymous friends that have nothing to do with the movie industry at all. I finally meet Eric, the friend that dragged Henry into my old gallery the day we met, a wonderful man with excellent taste, but through all the guests, the one I’m shocked the most to see in here is Chris Evans, who, living in Los Angeles, apparently took a flight to London expressly to attend the party only because Henry asked him to. </p><p>At some point of the night, there is a moment in which I get separated from Henry when we’re attending to the guests and I need to breathe, because there are too many people in here, too many important people, and it’s slowly triggering a panic attack that I would like to not show to everyone in here. Alcohol helps to keep it back, but only a little. What I really need is air, so I excuse myself to the one person that I’m talking to and I find my way out though the door. </p><p>The fresh air of London night, though not so fresh due to the time of the year where in, greets me, giving me a break of everything that is going on inside. It’s not all calm out here either. The press is still there, waiting for something interesting to happen but not allowed to get inside, and also a crowd of curious people that gathered there in hopes to get the chance to meet some of their favorite actors. At that moment I’m thankful to have hired security for the event.</p><p>A car stops in front of the gallery, and the man coming out of it walks through the small corridor between the fences after showing his invitation to the security guys. Middle aged, more or less in his forties, his hair starting to turn grey at some parts in an elegant way, wears a navy blue suit with a white shirt underneath. I don’t recognize him, so I guess it must be a friend of Henry, like most of the guests. However, when he notices me, he walks right straight to my direction. Does he know who I am, somehow?</p><p>“You must be Caronte” he says, so apparently, he does know me. After seeing my confused expression, he adds “My apologies. My name is Marco Lysander, I’m Henry’s agent. I guess you would know where he is.”</p><p>“Oh” I say, releasing some of the tension that I have accumulated because of the sudden proximity of a stranger. “He must be inside somewhere, I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful.”</p><p>“Don’t worry, I will find my way to him” it looks like it’s all what he's going to say, which seems a bit rude to me having in mind to which event he’s attending, but he seems to think about it better and turns again to me. “Look. I don’t have nothing against you, you seem like a nice girl, but when all of this” he gesticulates at the gallery itself “interferes with his job, it’s time to stop him and make him reconsider his choices.”</p><p>“Choices?” I ask, not knowing if feeling intrigued or offended right now. “What choices? How is this interfering with his job?”</p><p>“Well, I’d say turning down a very important role he’s been after for months only to be able to be here tonight it’s not the wisest thing to do, don’t you think? He should be in Yorkshire right now, but he chose to neglect his career instead by staying here.”</p><p>My eyes open wide and my mouth opens slightly in surprise.</p><p>“Oh, he didn’t tell you? Of course he didn’t” he says when he sees my face, though he doesn’t say that in a despective way, but in a ‘this is so typical of him’ way. “Look, forget I said anything. Enjoy the rest of the night.”</p><p>Marco starts walking to the door. When I manage to react, he’s some steps away from me, but still close enough to hear me.</p><p>“If I had known that, I wouldn’t have let him stay here” I say, determined. Marco stops his walking. “I wouldn’t do anything that could harm his career.”</p><p>“Well, that makes the two of us then” he says, only turning his head slightly before continuing until he’s inside the building and out of my sight.</p><p>I remain outside, trying to process what just happened. I came outside in search of some peace and it turned out to be worse the remedy than the disease. Scared of a sneaky camera that could shoot some pics of this moment, I go back inside, to the people, the noise, the chaos. I’m not sure where to go. For a moment, I think about finding Henry and ask him why, why the hell would he do such a thing, but thinking coldly about it, it might not be the wisest idea. I’m still trying to manage my anxiety and there’s a lot of people around for us to risk to make a scene of it. Besides, I still don’t know how to feel about that. Angry because he put this first instead of his main career? Happy because he chose to stay with me on such an important date? Why do I feel like it’s more the second one than the first? My head is starting to hurt. </p><p>No. I can’t find Henry yet. What I’m going to do is my job, which is what I’m supposed to do tonight.</p><p>Burying my feelings in work, as I always do.</p><p>Half an hour passes shortly before I realise, and I’ve managed successfully to not sink into panic. I talk to my artists, who are clearly happy for the opportunity to meet such important people tonight, and they’re also having fun, which helps me to relax a bit. I haven’t seen Henry again yet, which is probably the best for now. </p><p>Another hour goes by. It’s late, people are starting to leave. There are not as many guests as there were before, which makes it easier for my eyes to find Henry’s more than once across the room, but I manage to put some people between us and go hide elsewhere. Still not ready to meet him, not ready to admit that a bit of hope is blooming in my chest. I’m just… Confused. Confused by how that revelation makes me feel, of how <em> he </em> makes me feel when he’s around. About how knowing he prefers to be around makes me feel. Besides that, I find minutes to laugh and have fun, forgetting about that for a brief period of time. It’s a party after all.</p><p>It’s midnight some more minutes later. Almost all of the guests have left and the gallery is practically empty. Vesta has been doing her best tonight, I can tell she’s exhausted, and quite drunk by the end of the party, so I send her home. She’s probably going to have a hangover tomorrow. Probably me too. In the gallery, the catering service remains, cleaning everything before they leave. I have found some refuge in the hidden office, some very needed peace. I’m half sitting on the front edge of the desk, still with a glass of wine in my hand while reviewing some papers of the sales we made tonight. It’s crazy how all those months of hard work and sleepless nights have paid their reward. </p><p>Someone knocks on the door. I expect it to be the chief of the catering service to tell me they’re leaving, but when I look up I find Henry’s face, smiling, a bit red, probably a side effect of having been having fun tonight. I smile back at him, fondly. He finally found me. It might be the wine I’ve been drinking all night long, but I feel very warm inside when I look at him.</p><p>“Oh, here’s where you’ve been hiding” he says, closing the door after him. “Everyone’s left. It’s only us in here. I’ve called an uber, I can drop you at home… What?” he interrupts himself after seeing I can’t help a little laugh.</p><p>“Your hair is all messed up. What have you been doing?” I say, trying to not laugh by bringing the glass to my lips in a vain attempt.</p><p>“Huh, it probably has been Chris’s fault” he says, combing it with his fingers as he walks to me, a fun smile on his mouth. “That man can be so wild when he wants to.”</p><p>“Sure” I still laugh a bit before drinking more wine while he sits on the edge of the desk next to me. “I can tell you had fun.”</p><p>“So did you as well, I couldn’t find you after the first hour. And I really tried” he says. Then, he gently takes the glass of wine from me, his fingers caressing mine when we do the exchange, a longer contact than usually would take, and then takes the cup to his lips.</p><p>“I had work to do, it’s not only fun for me” I remember him, but finally putting the paper I was trying to read back on the desk. It will be something to take care tomorrow. “We did pretty good tonight, by the way.”</p><p>“Really?” he looks at me, starting to giggle when he sees my smile. He’s tipsy, and so am I, because his giggle is contagious. “That’s amazing. I knew you’d do great.”</p><p>“<em> We </em> did great” I correct him.</p><p>“The only thing I did tonight was keep Evans under control” he jokes. “You did all the work.”</p><p>I smile, blushing slightly. It might be the wine effect, but it’s feeling too warm in here. I get back my cup from his hand and drink a bit more. All my anxiety is gone by now, with the party over, and the good effects of alcohol, for sure. But what helps the most is this moment of peace with Henry, who looks as relaxed as me right now. We’re one right next to each other, our hands resting on the edge of the desk, so close they’re touching. I can feel his warmth so close, his scent all around me. All my senses feel so intoxicated by him. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this good with someone, and for once, maybe because of the wine, maybe because of what I learned earlier tonight, or maybe because of all the time we’ve spent together during the last months, I allow myself to let grow that little hope that started to bloom in my chest before. Hope in a future.</p><p>But there is something I need to know first.</p><p>“I saw your agent before” I say, looking at him. “Did he manage to find you?”</p><p>“Hmmm? Marco?” he asks, his eyes fixed on me too. “Yeah, he did.”</p><p>“Why didn’t you tell me?”</p><p>“About what?”</p><p>“About you having to be in Yorkshire today” I carefully place the cup on the desk while I speak. “About that role. About turning it down so you could be here tonight.”</p><p>I try to sound as gentle as I can, since I don’t want to sound like I’m scolding him. I just want an answer. An honest answer to why he is neglecting his job for spending more time at the gallery.</p><p>“So he told you” he says, looking away for a second and then back at me. “Are you mad at me?”</p><p>“No” I say, with all sincerity. </p><p>That answer seems to relieve the bit of tension that he had when he first asked the question. Still with our hands on the edge of the desk, I put mine over his, slowly, gently, reassuring him. His eyes, his <em> so blue </em> eyes that look like the sky itself inside this room, are fixed on mine with an intensity I’ve never seen before.</p><p>“I didn’t tell you because I knew you wouldn’t let me stay if you’d known” he says. “You would have said that I should take that chance, that it didn’t matter if I couldn’t come tonight, but I would have known that it was a lie and you’d have been sad, and I didn’t want to make you sad.”</p><p>He probably talks like that because of the wine, but it still shocks me how well he knows me by now. </p><p>I don’t notice that I’m leaning closer to him, attracted by the warmth of his body, or the scent of his cologne. </p><p>“But you can’t leave everything aside for that reason” I say, lowering my voice almost to a whisper. “I would be sad because I’d be missing you. But I’d also be happier when you were back. You wouldn’t be away for long.”</p><p>Henry leans also closer to me, slowly, so close he just rests his forehead over mine, both of us closing our eyes. I can feel his breath on me. I’d swear I can also hear his heartbeat. </p><p>“I don’t want to be away from you <em> at all </em>” he whispers, and when he does, I can feel each word against my lips.</p><p>Both of his hands are cupping my face as he kisses me. He tastes like wine, as I imagine I do too, but I don’t care, I give into that kiss that I have been craving for so long, for so, so long. I pull him closer by grabbing his blazer and he doesn’t oppose. One of his hands goes to my nape to grab me better while the other goes down and finds my thigh, his fingers pressing so hard against my skin, pulling me even closer to him, turning what started as a soft kiss into something more passionate, more fierce. Our mouths separate and find their way back to each other one time, and another and another, as we kiss and sigh and warm ourselves up. I can feel he’s hard, pressing my body against his, but I’m not innocent either on that matter. Then, Henry goes down to my neck, his lips leaving desperate kisses, his teeth playing with my skin as I let go a soft sigh when I feel them. </p><p>His phone makes a notification sound, and for a moment I think he’s not going to pay attention to it, but he lets go a low groan and separates so slightly only to look at my face, still not letting go.</p><p>“That’s my uber” he says, and then kisses me again urgently. “Come with me. Tell me you’ll come with me. Please” he kisses my neck between each sentence, which makes it really difficult for me to think. “Don’t be away from me another night. Not tonight.”</p><p>“I’m coming with you. Yes” I answer desperately, my voice barely a whisper. “I wouldn’t go anywhere else tonight.”</p><p>As if I could.</p><p>It takes us a bit to finally separate. More like it takes me a bit to convince him we have to leave, because the uber driver is waiting and he only wants to keep kissing me and not letting me go. But we finally do. Both of us walk to the entrance, giggling and trying not to stumble with ourselves, since Henry still insists on having me as close as he can, and we make sure we leave everything well closed before walking to the car that is waiting for us at the finally empty street. </p><p>Henry opens the door for me and helps me with my dress to get inside. We’re both red faced at this point, tipsy and giggling, and Henry is still refusing to get his hands off me, so I travel with one of his arms over my shoulders and his free hand demanding my attention as he turns my face from time to time to claim a kiss I’m more than glad to give him. The uber driver doesn’t say anything though, he must be used to this kind of situation, and gives us a ride for maybe ten, or fifteen, or twenty minutes, I can’t count, until we’re at the address Henry had told him.</p><p>It’s dark, but I can tell we’re at London’s outskirts because there are big fields all around, besides the neighbours’ houses. In front of us, a two-story house in full darkness, not a small one, but not too big either, the perfect space for a single person or a couple to live comfortably. I can’t see much of the garden, since Henry is rushing me to the door, stealing a kiss or two on the way. When we get inside, a big mass of dark furr comes to greet us happily.</p><p>“Kal! Shh boy, down, go back to bed” Henry makes his best to send him away, but not before I give the dog some scratches. Thankfully, that’s what it takes for him to go back to sleep. </p><p>Without turning on any light, Henry leads me upstairs. Still tipsy, wearing heels, and now the added difficulty of climbing stairs in the dark, I stumble a couple of times, giggling, but he’s always there to hold me, laughing too. I end up throwing my shoes once we’re finally upstairs, and that’s not the only thing I lose. My fears, my doubts, my insecurities are long gone. I open his blazer as I kiss him, helping him to remove it. Then, his hands go right to my lower back, finding the zipper of my gown and pulling it down. His fingers feel so good against my skin when he slides them up and finds the thin straps of the top of the dress, moving them down and making my clothes glide down to the floor. I’m now opening his shirt fully, caressing the bare skin of his hairy chest with the tip of my fingers as they go down and reach the edge of his belt. </p><p>Somehow during all that we finally reach the bedroom. He lays me down on the bed, more delicate than I would have expected due to our frantic enthusiasm from some seconds ago, and takes a moment to look at me, to look me in the eyes. I see him in the dim light that comes through the window, asking a silent question with his gaze. A question I answer by stretching until I reach his lips again, drinking from them as if it was the only source of water in the middle of the desert. </p><p>A sound wakes me early in the morning, so early it’s still pretty dark outside, with the sky just barely starting to turn clearer. I let go a groan, since that sound is piercing my head deeply, a side effect of hangover. Next to me, Henry hugs me tight with the arm he has over me and leaves a soft kiss on my temple before turning aside and searching blindly with his hand until he finds his phone and turns the alarm off.</p><p>“Sorry…” he groans as well, going back to his previous position, arm over me, pulling me closer in a warm hug that feels so good. “I hate to say this, but that was my cue to start moving.”</p><p>“Mmmving?” I ask, half asleep, without opening my eyes.</p><p>“Yeah” he says, softly, his lips on my temple. He sounds so sleepy, yet still manages to stay awake somehow. “Gotta do some jogging. Strict exercise routine. Can’t miss it” he says, taking his time to kiss my forehead a couple of times more. “Though it feels so good here…”</p><p>His fingers play caressing gently my hair, my cheeks, my neck. He’s right, it feels pretty good here. I could stay like this forever, to be honest. I open my eyes, or half open them at the very least. He’s right there, contemplating me, half a sleepy smile blooming on his lips when our eyes encounter. Now that we’re this close, I realise for the first time that he has a brown stain in the upper part of his left iris that I didn’t notice before.</p><p>“I’m sorry. Keep sleeping. It’s ok. I’ll be back before you realise” he says, leaving a last kiss, this time on my lips as I lift my face a bit to greet him. Then, he moves and steps out of bed, leaving an empty space next to me that feels so cold without him.</p><p>I close my eyes again, but I hear him going around the room finding some clothes before leaving and giving me some silence to rest. Then, I fall asleep once more.</p><p>The next time I wake up, the sun is already lighting up the room, though with not much intensity, so it must be early still. Henry is nowhere to be seen, but as I start moving on the bed, that bed that smells so much like him, like chamomile tea and coriander, with traces of the cologne he used last night, I realize he’s left my dress, my shoes and my small purse on an armchair he has in the room, as well as some folded clothes and what I can distinguish from here as a note on top. I linger on bed, trying to decide if curiosity is more powerful than laziness. I decide it is, so I finally move and step out of bed, full naked, to see what the note says. I recognise his handwriting, quick yet neat. </p><p>
  <em> These probably won’t fit you as well as that dress, but will definitely be more comfy. There’s coffee in the kitchen, but feel free to ransack the fridge if you’re hungry. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> -H. </em>
</p><p>The clothes are, indeed, too big for me. The white t-shirt almost looks like another dress on me, the sport shorts, though big as well, fit a bit better. His shirt smells good, very similar to how his bed does, so now I can carry his scent around with me. </p><p>I finally get a glance of the bedroom once I’m dressed. It’s not a huge room, but is bigger than the one I currently have at my new apartment. Behind me there is a full wall made of sliding doors that I guess are his wardrobe. A big window on the left wall gets the spotlight, with a wonderful view of the fields that surround the property and the rest of the neighbourhood. The bed, white sheets undone by the mess we made last night, is the biggest bed I’ve ever seen in person. Henry clearly likes to have room when he sleeps. It has a discreet headboard made of dark wood that provides an elegant touch without it being expensive looking. At my right, a big dresser made with the same kind of wood above which there are some decorative pieces and mementos, among which I recognise the small blue piece of framed resin, resting against the wall. </p><p>I smile, remembering that day, how he picked my favorite piece between the other ones in the room. But my smile turns into surprise when I see, hanging from that very wall, the two paintings that he first purchased from me. It’s the only thing that’s decorating the walls of the room. And they’re placed like they were at the gallery, one next to the other, reminding a shore landscape. A reminder of his home, as he told me once.</p><p>It warms my heart thinking that he probably sees those every night before sleeping.</p><p>I allow myself to contemplate the paintings some more minutes before going downstairs to fetch some of the promised coffee.</p><p>When he hears my steps, Kal comes to greet me at the end of the stairs. I give him all the scratches he wants and then he scorts me to the kitchen, where I serve myself a cup of coffee and decide to drink it sitting comfy on one of the huge couches in the living room, a big, well illuminated room, with some of Kal’s stuff around and some magazines and books on the coffee table along some decorative metallic spheres of different sizes. Hanging from one of the walls, framed posters of some of his movies: <em> Laguna </em> , which I guess it was his first one, and <em> Man of Steel </em>, a very important one for him, and on the other wall, a big TV. The room doesn’t really end there, since I can see the stairs and the other half of the house from here, but I don’t really feel like exploring further. Kal sits with me on the couch, claiming some more scratches, and we both just chill, with the early sun of the morning bathing us through the windows. For some minutes, I feel at peace.</p><p>But it doesn’t last.</p><p>When I feel more awake, the realization of what transcurred during the last hours hits me so hard it almost takes my breath out of me. The more I think about it, the more my heart accelerates to a dangerous point. I start to panic, because, oh my fucking god, what have we done.</p><p>What have <em> I </em> done?</p><p>I lowered my defenses so much that I let him in, and now he has the power to destroy me if he wanted to. It took me so much to recover from the last time, the only time actually, I fell in love with someone, that I don’t think I can survive another one. A year ago I broke into so many pieces I thought I would never be able to put all of them together. I sort of managed to do so, with a lot of help and patience from my friends, but now there’s a new risk of collapsing and they’re not around to pick me up. The mere thought of it is giving me a cold sweat, because I clearly remember his words from two days ago.</p><p>“<em> It’s not in my plans to have a relationship any time soon. </em>”</p><p>It’s already hurting.</p><p>Everything felt so natural to me while it was happening that I didn’t think about its implications, its consequences, until now. Because, obviously, there has to be consequences. Our relationship will never be the same after this, there is no coming back to what we had before, and I only have two options: either leave it to flow naturally until it reaches its unavoidable ending and probably hurting us so deeply that will ruin our good relationship forever, or put an end to this now before it hurts more and try to save whatever I can from our friendship.</p><p>There is not a happy ending to this.</p><p>I leave the almost empty mug in the kitchen again and I run back upstairs, to his room, looking desperately in my purse for my phone. I order an uber, while I wait for it to arribe I change again into my dress, leaving his clothes folded where I found them, and I can only hope I can leave before Henry comes back, because I can’t handle this situation right now. I still hear the echo of those words. He doesn’t want a relationship. He doesn’t. And yet, I was fool enough to have some hope last night. I can blame wine all I want, but in the end, it’s only on me.</p><p>When the car arrives, and worried about Henry arriving at that instant, I put my heels on and I quickly walk to it, loose hair moving by the soft breeze of the morning. Kal watches me leave with a silent gaze, wondering what’s happening, maybe. I wish I knew too.</p><p>I only start to feel better when I’m back at my apartment, having a warm shower. Now that I’m at home, at a place I know I’m fully safe, panic starts slowly going away, but it takes time. It takes, in fact, so long to calm down I barely notice it’s almost time to go to the gallery. I get dressed again with some <a href="https://i.pinimg.com/564x/50/62/00/506200f6c2c45965f69396a961e15785.jpg">work clothes</a>, white shirt and black pants, and I go back to the street.</p><p>There is a queue of people at the door when I arrive. Apparently, our party last night dragged a lot of attention for those who weren’t invited, so they decided to come today to see what all that fuss was about. I’m the first arriving, though Vesta joins me a few minutes later. The poor girl looks so sick this morning, her hangover must be terrible. Mine is, thankfully, bearable enough to work. I take my seat at my desk and turn on the computer, ready to start my day. Only then, when I have the time to check it, I notice I have a couple of texts on my phone. From Henry.</p><p>“Hey, where are u?”</p><p>“U ok?”</p><p>They’re not from long ago, so he might have arrived recently and found out I wasn’t there. The cold sweat comes back to me again and I choose to ignore my phone for the next hour. </p><p>Visitors take their tour around the gallery with curiosity. Vesta does her work and offers her help to those who require it. She’s trying her best, but I see that it’s taking a lot from her, so when I finally catch her by herself, I ask her to go home.</p><p>“We had quite a party last night, dear, just go home and get some more sleep” I say. Then, seeing the concern on her face, I add “You’re not in trouble. I myself have gone to work in the past with terrible hangovers too, and precisely because I know how terrible it is to work like that, I prefer you to stay at home today.”</p><p>“But… That would leave you alone in here” even though she must feel terrible, she’s still worried.</p><p>“It’s not my first rodeo, I will be fine. Just focus on resting and I’ll see you on Monday, ok?” I insist.</p><p>She nods and grabs her stuff before leaving. That leaves me in charge of the visitors. I do a brief guided tour for those who want some explanations on what they’re seeing, but most of them are interested in visiting on their own, so I can go back to my desk sooner than expected. There, I find another surprise. A missing call on my phone.</p><p>Again, from Henry.</p><p>I really, really need a break from everything that’s going on. Press the pause button and just recover, rebuild myself, and then keep going. But life doesn’t work like that. I barely have time to react, since the phone starts vibrating in my hand with a new call. I doubt at first about picking it up, because when I see his name on the screen, my heart races, but I finally decide to answer after the third tone. Ignoring him might only get things worse.</p><p>“Hey. I’m really sorry, I just saw you called. I’m at the gallery, it was very busy here, I couldn’t see my phone until now” I hurry to say, trying to sound as normal as possible.</p><p>There is a short pause.</p><p>“Oh. I didn’t know we were opening today” I hear him saying with what I’d swear is a relief touch on his voice. “I was worried because I came out of the shower and then I noticed you weren’t here and… I don’t know. I should have guessed.”</p><p>“Sorry, it’s on me, really. I should have left a note. I thought you already knew I had to be here today. I had to run to not be late” I lie the best I can. “Thanks for the coffee, by the way. And the clothes.”</p><p>I can hear his smile on the other side of the phone.</p><p>“Were they comfy?”</p><p>“A lot” I don’t have to lie about that.</p><p>The big door of the gallery opens again behind me, a sign of a new visitor coming inside, and the perfect excuse to end the call before I say something I’ll regret later.</p><p>“Hey, I have to go. More people just came in.”</p><p>“Don’t overwork yourself, ok?”</p><p>“Can’t promise” I can’t help a sad smile coming to my lips. </p><p>“See you later.”</p><p>“See you later.”</p><p>We both hang up and I let go a deep, frustrated sigh. It felt really dirty to lie like that. To lie to <em> him </em>. My eyes are tearing up, I have to take a couple of deep breaths to be able to hold the tears back. When I feel like I can handle it, I finally leave my phone back on my desk and I turn to keep doing my work and welcome the new visitor.</p><p>How big my surprise is when I see that the one who has just entered is a familiar face. </p><p>Familiar to me, of course. He doesn’t know who I am at all. Standing in the middle of the hall, Tom Hiddleston looks around him with curious interest, wondering maybe where to start visiting. I approach him picking on my way there one of the papers in which we have a brief explanation of the exhibition. When he hears my heels echoing around the room, he turns to me, a kind smile on his face.</p><p>“Good morning. What an impressive work you’ve made with this space. Last time I came by it was just an old, abandoned building” he says as I get closer. </p><p>“Thank you, Mr. Hiddleston. What a great surprise to have you here. Arlet Caronte” I say, as I extend my hand to him, which he shakes politely.</p><p>“So that’s what the name of the gallery stands for. Delightful” he’s referring to the black sign next to the door that says ‘<em> Caronte’s </em>’ in gold letters in it. “Tilda really didn’t lie when she said I would enjoy this place.”</p><p>“Tilda? Are you referring to Miss Swinton?” I ask, surprised.</p><p>“Yes. She kept texting me last night about how she really enjoyed the party. I sadly couldn’t attend due to schedule complications. I arrived in the city late at night. But I guess I have the gallery all to myself to enjoy.” </p><p>I walk with him for the first minutes, guiding him on where to go and what to see first, but I know not everyone wants a guided tour, and he looks like the kind of people who enjoys visiting by themselves and appreciate what they’re seeing without nobody bothering them, so I hand him the paper with the information and tell him that, if he needs me, I’ll be on my desk next to the entrance.</p><p>I go back to my papers, revising every sale we made last night. Vesta really outdid herself, and I have no doubt I did the right thing hiring her, she has a big potential. I will make sure to tell her once she’s back to work again. I start updating the list of available pieces for sale, go through emails and such, and for the first time in the morning I actually forget about everything else that transcurred some hours ago. My job always helped me to escape from my life when I needed it the most in the past, and is saving me today from drowning again. I’m so focused on what I’m doing that I don’t see Henry through the windows walking on the street several minutes later, and when I finally notice him, he’s already walking to my desk, a smile on his face. I don’t have any time to prepare myself.</p><p>“I thought I told you to not overwork yourself” he says, stopping next to me. He looks around to make sure there’s nobody around watching us and then he leans over me and kisses my temple. </p><p>“And I told you I couldn’t promise. What are you doing here?” I try to not look anxious about his proximity, but it doesn't work well, because his expression changes after seeing mine.</p><p>“I came to take you out for lunch. Are you ok?” he asks, worried.</p><p>“Yeah. I mean, I’m tired. Still have a bit of a hangover. There’s a lot of work to do. There is no coffee. The usual stuff” I say as I lean back on my chair, rubbing my tired eyes. Technically, none of that is a lie.</p><p>“Then take a rest. I’m sure Vesta can hold the fort for today.”</p><p>I can’t help but laugh at that.</p><p>“She was feeling worse than ever today, so I sent her home” I reply, silently thankful for the excuse that gives me. “I can’t go out for lunch, sorry.”</p><p>“Do you want me to bring lunch here?” Henry asks, as he carefully sits at the edge of my desk, looking thoroughly at me. </p><p>He’s not dumb, I know that he must think there’s something that I’m not telling him, which is indeed the truth. I’m so divided about what to do right now. He might not do it today, maybe not tomorrow, but I know that, sooner or later, he will hurt me when he gets bored of me, or starts dating someone else. He doesn’t want a relationship, he stated that very clearly. </p><p>He’s not in love with me. </p><p>Do I let him break me into pieces later or do I end this now?</p><p>Before I can even answer his question, I see Tom in the hall again, walking in our direction. I leave my chair and pass Henry to meet him halfway, a new smile in my lips. A professional, tense, cold and fake smile, which is the best I can offer right now due to the situation. Tom’s smile, however, looks purely honest.</p><p>“Have you enjoyed your visit?” I ask.</p><p>“Absolutely. I couldn’t finish it, though, I got a call and I need to be elsewhere soon. But I’ll definitely come back when I have the chance and finish it” he promises. Then, he looks at some point behind me, which I can only guess it’s Henry, and he smiles again. “Ah, Cavill, it’s been a while” he offers his hand to him and Henry shakes it strongly. “We don’t see each other enough.”</p><p>“Tom” he says with a kind smile on his face. He has positioned right behind me and now has his other hand on my lower back in a gentle caress. “Didn’t see you last night.”</p><p>“I couldn’t make it on time for the party, sadly. But I tried to” he then faces me again. “It’s been a pleasure, Miss Caronte. I will come back as soon as I can, and I hope to have a talk about some of those wonderful pieces you have. See you soon” he adds then for both of us, before turning away and walking to the entrance.</p><p>That leaves us alone again.</p><p>I walk back to my desk, feeling my heart racing. I feel Henry’s eyes fixed on my nape. </p><p>“Arlet” I hear him. “What’s wrong?”</p><p>
  <em> He knows. </em>
</p><p>I can’t delay this anymore.</p><p>
  <em> He’s not in love with you. </em>
</p><p>I take a deep breath and I turn, facing him. He’s near me, but doesn’t dare to come as close as before. He obviously knows. Henry can read me as easy as I read him. After all these months, we know each other quite well.</p><p>“Listen I…” I don’t even know how to start. “I had fun last night. I really did.”</p><p>“...but?” he asks, when I remain silent for longer than I was planning to. He really knows where this is leading to, but that doesn’t make it any easier.</p><p>“I… Henry, we kind of work together. Not kind of, we work together here. And I don’t feel really comfortable with… Oh god this is so difficult” I rub my eyes with both of my hands, trying so hard to not start crying right now.</p><p>“Don’t shit where you eat, huh?” he asks, understanding where I wanted to go. </p><p>I look at him, so tired and exhausted I don’t know how I’m holding myself up.</p><p>“Yeah” I say. I can see how he’s trying to hide his disappointment, which only hurts even more. “Henry, we're really good friends, and I really want it to keep being like that. I still want to see you and spend time with you, I don’t want to risk it, but something more than that might…”</p><p>“Might complicate things, yes. I understand” he nods. He has a face I can’t really read, and for the first time, his thoughts are a mystery for me. “It’s ok, Arlet, don’t feel bad for that. I like being your friend too.”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“Of course” he gives in and walks the few steps that separates us and hugs me tight between his arms. I have to make a huge effort to not cry right there. I hug him back as strong as I can, and for a moment, the whole world stops existing, as I get lost in his perfume of chamomile tea, coriander, and whatever his cologne might use. “You’re important to me, ok? Never doubt that” he says, close to my ear, caressing my hair with the tip of his nose. His voice is soft, and warm, but has a touch of something I can’t really identify. “I don’t want to risk <em> us </em> because we got drunk one night.”</p><p>He sounds so sincere I can only nod, face hidden between his neck and his shoulder, and I remain like that for some minutes. When I’m sure I’m not going to cry, I feel strong enough to separate from him, but until then, Henry holds me gently, with one of his big hands rubbing my back up and down. I feel so relieved, so much lighter now. The fact that he understands is also pretty helpful.</p><p>“Well” I say once we separate, feeling much better, and more or less unbroken. “I believe I’m going to order something for lunch. Do you want to join me?”</p><p>“I think I… I’d rather go” he says, with that difficult to read expression. “I forgot I have to take Kal to his vet appointment and… Well. But we can arrange one soon.”</p><p>“Sure” I say, not really liking how unconvincing that sounds. “Give Kal some scratches for me, will you?”</p><p>“Of course” he says, as he starts backing up.</p><p>“See you soon?”</p><p>“See you soon.”</p><p>I see Henry walking away and leaving the gallery at a quicker pace than usual, and I can’t help but feel that, even when everything seems to have gone well, even when he was caring and understanding, there’s something wrong in all of this. Maybe it’s how ‘good’ he took the news, or maybe the poor excuse he gave me so he could leave. Or maybe it’s the fact that this is the first time I couldn’t read on his face how he was feeling exactly. Something is different, something has changed. Maybe I’m completely wrong and the next time we meet everything is back to normal, and we’re back to be the close friends we’ve been until now, which can’t take really long. Henry promised we’ll see each other soon. He never broke any of his promises before, he wouldn’t break this one either.</p><p>I can only hope to be right this time. But that, only time will tell.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>What can I say about this chapter besides I'M REALLY SORRY GUYS 😂😂<br/>It couldn't be that easy, sadly. I warned you that this is going to be a really long slow burn, so you better brace yourselves, the road is just starting!!</p><p>This was the hardest chapter I've written, especially the last part. It broke my heart :c but we'll have happier moments soon!</p><p>Link words guide:<br/>For the party:<br/>-Party outfit: "my dress for tonight"<br/>-Party hair: "a more sophisticated bun"</p><p>Normal work outfit: "some work clothes"</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Summer storms</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Summers are usually portrayed as sunny, but no summer is complete without a sudden storm.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I just can’t see where the problem is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vesta and I have our eyes fixed on the computer screen, fast reading through the help page of the software we use to sort our bills. We have noticed now that it’s been doing weird things during the last couple of days, such as duplicating the same bill and stuff like that, and we’re both trying to figure out how to fix it through the main settings menu. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe unselect that option there?” I say, after a couple of minutes of silent concentration, pointing at the screen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She clicks on the preview button after that and voilà.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh there you go. Finally” we both groan in relief and do a high five. “I told you we didn’t need to call the IT specialist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are our own specialist” she says, smiling satisfied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thanks to that issue with the software, we leave the gallery thirty minutes later than usual. I don’t really care about that, since there’s nobody waiting for me at home, but Vesta was kind enough to stay with me and solve it together. Now, going back home through the crowded streets of London, I think it would be nice to be able to hang out with my friends after work, go somewhere and have a beer, dinner, talk and fun. If I were at my hometown, right now I’d be with Nerea and Nestor, looking for a place to have dinner and talking about what club we’d be going to after that. We would have a crazy, endless night full of laughs, alcohol, music, like the old times. I really miss them a lot. A freaking lot. It feels a bit lonely here without them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It starts raining.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s one of those summer rains that don’t last really long, but still makes people around me run to find some refuge. Being a couple of blocks away from my apartment, I do the same, thanking in silence to be wearing my white sneakers today instead of heels. It feels refreshing though, something unexpected, different, reminding us we’re still alive. That, after all, I’m still alive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I find some cover when I finally reach my building, climbing up the stairs until the black iron door and the big round column that separates the space from the garage door. I take a moment there to catch my breath, in the small space between the end of the stairs and the door itself, watching the rest of the pedestrians still running to their destinations. Water drops fall down my face. I have some wild strands of hair out of my bun now stuck to the skin of my face, of my neck, as wet as I am. My red top is soak wet too, but at least my jeans and my purse managed to get the least part of the downpour. Under me, however, a small puddle is starting to form, since I’m dripping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A thunder resonates in the streets, loudly. Seems like I was wrong. It’s not a summer rain. It’s a storm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I turn, ready to go inside. And I see him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I didn’t notice him when I first arrived because he was leaning behind the round column. He’s wearing a red t-shirt and beige shorts, long to his knees. He hasn’t shaved for a week at the very least, and his hair is all wild uncombed curls right now. But what I see the most, is his smile. His wonderful smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s been four weeks since I last saw him, leaving the gallery, unsure about how he was feeling, and now, I have him in front of me again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi” Henry says, smiling even more now that I’m looking at him, his pointy fangs showing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi!” I say, laughing in surprise. “I thought you weren’t coming back until next week! What are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I go to hug him, but I remember I’m soaked and I stop half way, looking at my clothes. However, he closes that distance and hugs me tight, allowing me to sink into his warmth, to feel him again. It’s been so long since the last time. I have missed him the most.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re gonna get wet too now” I say, but not wanting to let go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just water” he replies. Then, he pulls back, finally. “You look good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you’re lying, but thanks” I say, conscious that right now I’m not in my best moment, all soaked and messed up. “You look good too. What are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We finished with the pre-production work earlier than we expected, so they let me come back until the shooting schedule starts. And I wanted to see you” he explains. “I was worried you wouldn’t come. I wanted to surprise you here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you did! I…” I’m at a loss of words. I was afraid the next time I could see him again everything would be weird and awkward, but it doesn’t feel like that at all. Not now. “I got late because we had a problem with the software and… well, nevermind. I’m here now. I’m so happy to see you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Especially after how things went the last time we saw each other. It took us two days to go back to text each other, and then I learned he finally got the role for that film he turned down so he could be at the gallery with me, but he had left for Yorkshire the very next day, so we couldn’t say goodbye properly. Maybe for the best. I felt really terrible during the first week he was away, because I considered, and still consider, myself guilty of everything that went wrong between us. Eventually, I started to feel better, after going back to our long talks, but still, something was still not the same between us, maybe because he was away. I never really told him though. We didn’t talk again about it, actually. Having him in front of me now, even with all our texts and phone calls during the last four weeks, is a great relief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m happy to see you too. Really” and he seems honest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a brief moment of silence in which we look at each other and we only hear the rain falling, the traffic noise, the sound of people running behind us. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, you really surprised me here. Let’s get inside and I’ll prepare some tea, or coffee, or something” I say, looking for my keys inside my purse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t stay, sorry” he replies. “I didn’t think it would take you so long to get home and I have somewhere else to be at soon. But I’m really glad I got to see you today at least.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My hands stop rummaging through the stuff of my purse and, trying to not look too disappointed, I put the strap of it on my shoulder again, since it has started to slide down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, ok. Sorry for that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s ok. You didn’t know. That’s the point of surprises, isn’t it?” He smiles again. I have missed that smile so much. “Let’s do this, I’ll take you some coffee tomorrow to the gallery, so we can catch up properly. Deal?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Deal” I say, smiling back at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See you tomorrow then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He starts going down the stone stairs that lead to the street. He really is going to go out there, will all that crazy rain going on right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re gonna get soaked!” I yell at him from where I’m at so he can hear me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just water!” he yells back, opening his arms under the rain curtain, smiling. Then, turns his back to me and continues his path.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I watch him leave, totally charmed by the moment, wondering if he has really been here in the first place. It has been like seeing a mirage. He was there, and the next second, he was gone. A brief vision after a month of waiting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the promise of seeing him again tomorrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When I go back inside, I try to ignore it, but my heartbeat is way faster than it has been in a while, and it’s not because of the race under the rain. He’s the only one to blame. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A lot of things have happened during the last month Henry has been away, and at the same time, nothing at all. Vesta and I have been dealing with new portfolios for a new exhibition next september, trying to decide what we want for it, teaching her about how to tell if a piece is worth of being exposed or just kindly rejected, and simultaneously emailing new contacts we’ve been making, informing them about our catalogue of pieces that are still available. Paperwork for future art fairs, redacting newsletters and press notes, contacting critics and so on. We’ve been busy four our first month open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And at the same time, every day has just been the same. A routine has been established in which I just went from home to work and from work to home. Vesta invited me to go out with her and her friends on more than one occasion, but I gently declined the offer. With everything going on in my head since Henry left, I wouldn’t think of myself as a good company outside work. It’s my job what has helped me keep my sanity after having my only friend here taken away from me because of my own actions, while living in a foreign city with none of my old friends or family around. My job has helped me to deal with loneliness when I was craving for some of his company, of their company, and has been most likely my only source of joy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, he has come like a balm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or so I thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next day, I’m at my desk, next to the big windows of the gallery. Contrary to yesterday, today the sun shines bright on the sky. Ironic, because there’s going to be another storm today. I don’t know that yet, but I’m about to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m not paying much attention to the people entering the gallery, I have Vesta for that. I hear low voices, and a familiar laugh, but still, I’m too focused on redacting what would be the next press note about our comeback after August vacations, with the new exhibition and the date of the opening day. The party won’t be as fancy as the first one, but I expect to gain the attention of new collectors with it. Is not until I have him in front of me, holding two take-away coffees in his hands, that I realise Henry has arrived.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Overworking as always, I see nothing has changed here” he says, handing me one of the cups. He has shaved today, but his hair is the same mess of curls I saw yesterday.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hi!” I get up from my chair, taking the coffee, as I go around the desk to give him a quick hug. “Well, we’re busy. There’s a lot to do before summer holidays, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t that like in a month or something?” he asks, confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, mid August. That’s why we need to sort everything out </span>
  <em>
    <span>beforehand</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Hen” I reply, a small smirk on my lips before taking a sip of my coffee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be salty, I just brought you coffee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, I’m sorry. Can I keep my coffee?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll allow it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We both laugh, and it feels so good. I missed his laugh, laughing with him. The gap between us seems to not exist at all now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then, it reappears, and it’s bigger than before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From behind Henry I see how a femenine arm is entangled in his, and is followed by a tall, slender girl, with a long hair of caramel color tied in a high ponytail. Long legs under the skirt of her dress, her </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> short green dress, that end in a pair of stiletto heels that are definitely more expensive than my monthly rent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here you are. I thought you were going to show me around” she says to Henry, then looking at me. “Oh, hello. You must be his associate.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s me, indeed” I reply, trying to sound formal and not cold at all, though there’s something in my stomach that wants me to throw up at this very moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, eh, Arlet, this is Mandy. Mandy, Arlet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he makes the presentations, it looks like it was something he was trying to hide. Not like he was trying to hide Mandy for me, but like he’s trying to hide whatever he has with her. But if that was the case, why bring her to the gallery, where he knew I was going to be anyway? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice to meet you” she says, not making even the effort to extend her hand towards me. She’s hanging from Henry’s arm like a snake from a tree branch, and looking at me with curious disdain, studying me in a way I’m already familiar, the way some of the rich spouses of some collectors looked at me at my old work, when I was younger, and only an assistant. The look of someone who’s playing with her food.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Where the hell did Henry find this girl?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice to meet you too” I reply, offering my best professional smile, which is clearly not the true one. I don’t know if she could tell the difference, but I’m pretty sure that Henry does. “Well, I won’t take more time from you, since you promised to show her around, and work is piling up” I say to him in a colder tone than the one I was using with him before. “Thanks for the coffee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I go back to my chair and fix my eyes on the screen. There’s a brief moment of silence, in which I can feel Henry’s eyes fixed on me, and then I hear Mandy whispering “come on, she has work to do”. Then, they leave my area and start doing a tour around the rest of the gallery. Only then I let go a deep, anxious breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I do my best to focus on work, but five, ten, fifteen minutes pass and I haven’t written a single word. The document is laughing right at my face. I read the same last sentence all over again, trying to remember what I was supposed to write, but the only thing that comes to my mind is Mandy’s arm around Henry’s. The triumphal look in her eyes. What the hell was that about?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So, that’s what you meant by catching up properly, huh?</span>
  </em>
  <span> I think to myself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why am I so angry, though? Wasn’t I the one who pushed him away in the first place?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I rub my eyes, tired, suddenly. This shouldn’t be affecting me this much. I knew beforehand something like this was going to happen sooner or later. It just happened to be sooner than I anticipated, but still, what do I care? I strengthened the barriers around me the day he left. I’m ok. I’m all good. I’m intact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I hear then some steps coming to my direction. I peek my head from behind my computer screen, in case it’s Henry coming back, but to my surprise, turns out it’s Tom, who waves happily at me when he sees I’ve noticed him. He’s wearing a broken white t-shirt and some jeans, a very casual outfit. I smile softly, relieved, and I get up from my chair again, this time to greet him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Hiddleston, I didn’t see you enter” I say shaking his hand when he’s in front of me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I came quite earlier, but I saw you were busy and I didn’t want to disturb you” he says, his ginger locks shining brightly under the sun. “Please, call me Tom. Mr. Hiddleston sounds too formal for my taste.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With pleasure. Did you enjoy your visit? Did you finish it this time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, finally. Such a shame I couldn’t come earlier to do so. But you know how work can be sometimes, especially for actors” he passes his fingers through his curly hair in a gesture that is very familiar to me. “I was wondering if we could speak in private. There’s a couple of pieces I’d be interested in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. Over here, please” I say, leading him to the hidden office. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took me time to learn to be in that office without thinking about that night, to not immediately think about Henry’s lips against mine, his scent all around me, the touch of his hands on my skin. At first, I couldn’t even be in there for more than a few seconds, since memories were overwhelming and the wound Henry made me when he left was freshly open. But if I’m something in this life, is a very stubborn woman. So I grabbed the bull by the horns, as we say at home, and I claimed my office back. Memories now are just memories.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except they’re piercing me back again today.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, I try really hard to ignore them. My attention needs to be focused on Tom. We spend the next twenty minutes filling the papers I need to register the sale of the pieces he wants to acquire, and also having a bit of a talk. At first, everything is good, an innocent conversation, but eventually this is making me remember the day I met Henry. It was a very similar situation, yet the talk with Henry flowed naturally, and with Tom I don’t really know what to talk about, so we end up talking about art, which seems a topic both of us know really well. Once we’re done with the papers, we go back to the hall of the gallery, where I can still see Henry and Mandy walking around. I was hoping they were gone already. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for everything, Arlet, it has been a very lovely visit” he says with a kind smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It has been a pleasure to have you” I reply, smiling back at him. “I hope you can come back for the new exhibition. We’ll have another party.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That certainly sounds like something worth trying to assist. I’ll see what I can do” he says. “Before I leave I was wondering… Would it be weird if I invited you for dinner tonight?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I blink, not because of the question, but because of the feeling of deja-vu that I’m having right now. However, he must think it’s because of his proposal, because he hurries to take it back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nevermind, you don’t need to answer. I didn’t want to put you in a tight position” he says, looking completely sorry about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m sorry, it caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting it” I rush to say. My eyes can’t help but land in a point behind Tom, where Mandy is pulling from Henry’s arm to move to another painting, and he’s distracted looking in our direction. Our eyes meet for a second. One infinite second. Then, I avert my gaze and look at Tom. “It would be lovely to have dinner with you, Tom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His smile comes back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great! Do I pick you up at eight?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I tell him where to find my building and then, after a short goodbye, he leaves, and I go back to my desk. For some reason, I don’t feel as great as I thought I would. Maybe because the whole situation reminds me of how I met Henry, or maybe because Henry was there, watching. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He moved forward, why shouldn’t I?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I keep telling myself that for the next five minutes, but I don’t feel less dirty about it. Then, I go back to the press note that has been abandoned for almost an hour now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like fifteen minutes later, Henry and Mandy are back in the hall. He says something to her I can’t hear from here, but must be something in the line of “I’ll be back in a minute” because then he walks towards me and she doesn’t follow. I sigh, but I remain in place, waiting for him to arrive, instead of doing what my instinct is screaming me to do, which is running in the opposite direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey” he says when he arrives at my desk. “We’re going to have some lunch. Do you want to join us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to finish some things here, Henry” I reply, barely looking away from my computer. “You two go and have fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can come back later, after I drop her and…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Henry” I interrupt him, and look him in the eye, not angrily, not mad or anything, but maybe a little cold, perhaps. And tired. Very tired. “Listen. I’m at my working hours, I can’t just… stop working. I can’t drop everything and leave Vesta alone here. Not like we used to do when the renovation was still going on. We’re open to the public now, and she’s only one person. We have a schedule for a reason. It has worked well for us for over a month already.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a short pause in which I can see guilt all over Henry’s face, and I wonder if I have been maybe too harsh on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, you’re right” he says, finally, in a lower tone than before. “But I do need to talk to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it has waited this long it certainly can wait until I’m out of work” I say, turning again my face to the computer screen. “So, </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe</span>
  </em>
  <span> later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine” he sighs, clearly as tired of this as I am. Almost desperate. “See you later then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I look at him, and he looks back at me with those eyes that used to tell me so many things before, but now enclose so many secrets, so many unspoken words I can’t decipher, as if he has built a barrier around him as well. Then, I nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods as well, and then leaves. Mandy, patiently waiting at the hall, hangs from his arm again once he’s there, and Henry doesn’t oppose. I roll my eyes, truly tired of all of this, and then, I go back to work, trying to find some peace again. The note press is still laughing at me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Closing time comes. And also passes. So does the crowd of people walking in the street. I’m waiting at the big door of the gallery, now fully closed, lights off, alarm set, metal fence protecting the entrance. Vesta has left long ago, it’s only me here. I check my phone, once again. Twenty minutes already. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re late” I say in a low tone, only to myself, since there’s nobody else to hear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I decide I have waited enough, so I start my walk back home. He had his chance and lost it. I can’t wait any longer. I have a date.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, I’m not one of those that need hours to be ready. I only need to refresh myself and change my clothes. Picking the dress for tonight might be what takes me the longest. I finally decide for a<a href="https://i.pinimg.com/564x/ae/30/ac/ae30acbe239b149ddb198e31b99641a3.jpg"> pale pink</a> one, short, because it’s summer, and some <a href="https://i.pinimg.com/564x/ee/33/0c/ee330c78c97ef2696a68a5af780b6868.jpg">tie-up heels</a> of the same color. I tie my hair in a messy bun, my eternal summer hairstyle by now, put on a pair of big, golden prism earrings, and when I hear the entryphone ringing I hurry to answer it, worried about being late already.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be down there in a minute!” I say, not waiting for a response before hanging up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I grab my small purse and leave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If only I would have remembered at that moment, or while I was going down in the elevator, or while I was walking towards the door, that I didn’t tell Tom which was the number of my apartment, I wouldn’t be so surprised to find Henry at the iron door when I exit the building. And, for once, he’s as surprised as me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We both look at each other. Henry’s eyes study me from head to toe, analyzing that I’m indeed wearing another outfit, obviously not the same than I did this morning, a hanging out outfit, one very different to the ones he’s used to see me wear, more casual or work style, and he clearly wasn’t expecting that. I see it in his eyes when he understands, then, that I wasn’t waiting for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you to not be late” I say, in a soft voice, kind of feeling guilty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All that anger, that rage from this morning, gone. Now that he’s alone, it's like all those ugly feelings left with that girl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now I see why” he replies in a soft tone as well, still processing what is happening. “I’m…” he hesitates, then lets go a sigh and tries again. “I’m really sorry. For being late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks at me right in the eye. I can’t hold his gaze for long, there’s something in them that makes me feel worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe I should cancel and stay. He said he had to talk to me.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Should I?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Before I have time to make my mind, behind Henry, downstairs in the street, I can see Tom appearing and coming up here. He’s dressing similar to this morning, but instead of a t-shirt, it’s a formal white shirt with his jeans. He arrives, smiling, and gives a surprised look to Henry, to whom he wasn’t really expecting here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hi Henry! Are you joining us?” he asks, with a polite tone, a formal smile on his lips, but in his eyes I can tell he wants him to decline the offer. Of course, Henry also notices that. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to come.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no, no. I… I forgot something in the gallery, and Arlet picked it up for me. I was already leaving” he looks at both of us, smiling, first to him, and then to me. I can tell from experience it’s definitely not his true smile, which hurts even more. “You two have fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gently places his hand on my lower back, just for a moment, and then, waves briefly at Tom and proceeds to walk the stairs down. I watch him leave with a knotty feeling in my stomach. Why do I feel so bad? Why does this hurt so much?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I blink, coming back to my senses. Tom is also looking at Henry getting lost in the crowd of people in the street, but when he turns back to me, he looks relaxed again. As if, somehow, Henry’s presence tensed him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look splendid, now I feel underdressed” he says, always so kind, making me smile finally. “Shall we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nod, but still feeling that knot in my stomach. My eyes instinctively wander in the direction Henry left. He’s nowhere to be seen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, let’s go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom has picked a relatively fancy restaurant for dinner tonight. It’s definitely more elegant than the ones I use to go, but not in the extreme of ‘there’s a queue of six months if you want a table here’ either. I can only hope he’s not trying to impress me, because such things won’t do. They never did before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The food is nice, and so is the company, but my mind is far away from here. I can’t help but wonder what Henry wanted to talk about, where he might have gone, what he is doing right now. I’m also thinking about how I’m reliving the day I met Henry, but with another person. Everything is so similar, and yet so different. It’s like the universe is mocking at me for some reason I can’t understand. The more I try to move forward, the more everything reminds me of him. That honest laugh he had in our first dinner together, how relaxed he seemed to be with me, how interested he was in whatever I had to say. I can’t get him out of my head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I wonder if someday I will.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A penny for your thoughts” I hear Tom’s voice, distracting me from my deliberations.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me?” I ask, suddenly brought back to reality.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been quiet. I don’t mind talking, but if I keep going I will get the feeling that I’m boring you” he says, not in an accusatory tone, but a concerned one. “Is everything ok?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, eh… Yes, everything is good. My apologies, I was… Thinking about work” I lie shamelessly. “I have a hard time disconnecting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can tell” he says. But Tom looks like a smart guy, so he probably might guess that’s not everything. “Listen, I really don’t want to step into the middle of something, so I need to ask. Are you and Henry…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No” I cut that question before it ends, maybe a bit too harsh. “No, we… We’re just friends” I add, in a gentler tone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure about that. But one thing is what we say, and another one is what our heart wants” he says, kindness shining in his eyes. “And I’m pretty sure I’m not in the last part. Am I right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t look offended at all, which only makes me feel more guilty about all of this. I owe him at least to be honest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nobody is right now” I say. “I… try to keep myself away from that kind of matters.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods, understanding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A bad breakup?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A terrible one” I snort a laugh. “One of those that leaves you wondering if you’ll be able to…” I sigh, trying to find the correct words. “To trust someone like that again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, he nods. There is a moment of silence in which we both know the night will be over after we pay the bill. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trust is a beautiful gift to give” he says, finally. “I hope one day you can find someone who deserves it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I think deeply about that in the cab on my way home. I’ve always been told that I open my heart way too easily to everyone, to boys, to friends, to family, and it’s true, but that’s because loving is easy. It doesn’t have to be in a romantic way. Everybody loves someone. Anyone can love. It’s trust what takes the biggest effort. Trust is what makes love so important. You can love someone you don’t trust, but you can’t trust, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really trust</span>
  </em>
  <span>, someone you don’t love. At least, that’s how I see it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Loving someone to a point you give them the power to destroy you and </span>
  <em>
    <span>trust</span>
  </em>
  <span> they won’t do it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For me, right now, is something impossible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I ask the driver to stop when we come across the gallery. I don’t feel like going home yet. I won’t be able to sleep, to relax, with so many thoughts inside my head. At this point, I feel the gallery more like my home than my own apartment, because somehow I feel less lonely here. I close everything again behind me, metallic fence, lock the door, and I don’t bother to turn on all the lights from the building, I only need my desk lamp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I open the damn press note that has been eluding me through all day and I let myself drown into work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t know how much time has passed when I hear the knocks on the window next to me. It doesn’t make me jump on my seat, but definitely surprises me. When I turn to look who it is, I discover Henry looking at me through the glass. He has half a tired smile on his face, and he’s pointing at the door, silently asking me to open it. I smile too, briefly, before getting up from the chair. I walk down the few steps that separate my office area from the hall and I start unlocking the door while the metallic fence goes up. Once Henry is inside, I close everything back again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi” we look at each other, wordless for a brief second. “What are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could ask you the same question” he replies. “I thought you had a date” he adds, with a hint of something else in his voice I can’t really tell apart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t a date” I say, as I walk my way back to my desk, my heels echoing around the gallery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you dress like that for a no date?” he asks, following me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I turn when I’m almost at my desk, looking at him with a tired smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was a date” I admit. “But then I decided I didn’t want it to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We stare at each other for a long pause. Unlike with some others, with him, silences are not uncomfortable, but intimate, a brief period of time in which we can tell much more without any words. That’s one of the things I like most about having him around. I’m the one who finally averts the gaze, going back to my seat. He follows, leaning against the edge of the table, not fully sitting, right next to me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did something happen?” he asks, I’m not sure if curious or concerned, to which I shake my head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. We had a nice dinner, a nice talk, everything went good, in fact” I say. “I have decided that I just... don’t want dates.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not going home then? Why did you come here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It feels lonely there” I reply. “It reminds me how far away my friends are. If I’d had a bad date back at home, by now I would be halfway through a bottle of tequila with them, probably on our way to some club where we could dance until dawn, or just pass out at the beach until we woke up” I rub both of my eyes softly with my fingers, tired of staring at the screen for so long, with a nostalgic smile blooming in my lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When, after some silence, I still don’t get any answer from Henry, I look at him. His expression seems a bit darker than before, guilt written all over it. When he looks back at me, there’s an apology in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry I forced you into moving here” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shake my head softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew what I was stepping into when I accepted. Life consists in taking decisions, knowing that some can change your life completely” I say. “That doesn’t mean there aren’t tough days, there’s always of those. But there’s also good days. I know it will take time for me to fully adapt” When I speak, I do it looking him right in the eye. “I don’t regret moving here, if that’s what is worrying you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks slightly better, a bit more relieved, but the weight of the conversation is still hanging heavily over us, so I try to change it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> doing here? I thought you’d be at home with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mandy</span>
  </em>
  <span> already” I say, trying to sound casual about it, but conscious that I’m far from it, since when Mandy’s name comes to my lips I can’t help but say it with a bit of resentment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh god, don’t remind me of how bad of an idea that was” he says, passing his fingers through his hair, now quite longer than the day we met. “We had something like, I don’t know, a year? A year and a half ago? It only lasted for a night and I can’t even remember where it happened” he looks so embarrassed about it I can only guess he’s trying really hard to not say he was so drunk at that time. “And I promised her a tour around the city if she ever came to visit, which she finally did. I totally forgot about it, honestly” he admits, looking at me. “It wasn’t a date either. Well, she might have thought it was, but it wasn’t for me. That’s what I wanted to tell you this morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t know when it starts to happen, but my heart is racing so much I’m worried he can hear it from where he is. I feel a weird mix of excitement and relief I can’t really describe, but I believe we all know that feeling of butterflies in our stomach. I would never dare to admit in front of him this is the best thing I’ve heard today. I try really hard to not show it in my face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why were you late before then?” I ask, finally finding my voice again, resting my forehead in one of my hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I tried really hard to get rid of her, but she just wouldn’t let me go” he explains, making a tired face. “My plan was to have lunch with her, as promised, and drop her off at her hotel after that. But she then wanted to go to this place, and the other one, and…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re too polite to just say no” I finish for him, smiling fondly. That sounds like the Henry I know. The Henry I like.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks at me, kind of surprised that I know him that well, and then nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When I realized the time it was, I hurried as much as I could. But when I arrived you were gone already” he says. “I can’t blame you if you think I’m an asshole. I shouldn’t have brought her here in the first place. But after a month away, I really wanted to see you. And I had promised you a coffee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I look at him, still with a soft smile on my lips. He can be really stubborn sometimes. Another thing I like about him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think you’re an asshole” I say. “I might have been too harsh on you this morning. I’m sorry. I really love your visits.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry smiles kindly at me, nodding. He’s more than I deserve, I’m totally sure about that. After the day we’ve had, after how bad both of us felt, the only thing I can do now is to get up from my chair, sit next to him on the desk and hug him with one of my arms, my fingers drawing random patterns on his back, resting my head on his shoulder. He puts his arm around my waist and places a soft kiss on my head, resting his lips at that spot. That contact feels so good, so warm. I have missed him so much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here” I say, so relaxed now that everything seems to be solved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm, true” he says, his lips tickling that part of my head when he speaks. “I don’t know. I didn’t feel like going home, so I just... walked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You walked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. It helps me when there’s a lot of things in my head” he explains. “I have my bike parked near to your place, so I was going there when I noticed the light through the window and saw you here” I feel his lips smiling on my hair, which makes me smile too. “Only you can work on a date night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t a date” I gently remind him. I find funny how we both felt like we needed to make that very clear. Henry with Mandy, me with Tom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, yes. Because you don’t want to have dates” I feel how his arm moves from my waist and a few seconds later his hand is gently caressing my hair. However, he lifts his head from mine, so the tingles his lips provoque me are gone now. “May I ask why? I’m sure that… Tom is an excellent guy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He seems to make an effort to say that last part. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m pretty sure he is” I say, feeling like the inner peace I have recently reached suddenly evaporates. I separate a bit from Henry, who looks at me, frowning in concern. “It’s a long story that I don’t really feel like telling right now. Maybe another day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods, not less confused and concerned about it, but he doesn’t push it. I then lean to my side to turn off the computer and grab my purse, getting finally away from the desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should go” I say, offering my hand to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, Henry looks like he’s about to say something else, but instead, nods again and takes my hand, getting on his feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But on our way to the door, he lets go of my hand and passes his arm over my shoulders instead, and when we’re finally walking in the street again, I hug his waist with my arm too. I like having him close, and seems like we don’t need any excuses for it tonight, since it looks like we’re both craving it, after a month of absence. I don’t comment on it, neither does he, we both just enjoy that comfort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When we finally get to my place, it feels sad to have to let him go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is your bike far from here?” I ask, trying to delay the goodbye for a bit more. We’re one in front of the other, with the iron door of my building at my back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really. At the end of the street” he answers, looking like he’s trying to scratch some more minutes of time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be careful, ok? Please” I say, after a brief pause.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I always am” Henry smiles at my worry. “I believe I haven’t told you, but you look beautiful tonight” then, he leans towards me, closer than I expected him to be, and whispers in my ear, “...though blue looks better on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leans back and winks at me, a mischievous grin on his lips, and then, starts stepping down the stairs, leaving me there, perplexed, blushed, and with my heart beating faster than the wings of a hummingbird.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Link word guide:<br/>-Pink dress: "I finally decide for a pale pink one"<br/>-Heels: "and some tie-up heels"</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Dawn at Trafalgar Square</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Summer days are sunny and warm, and can give rise to happy and also warm stories. In this chapter, we have three different stories of three different days before Henry and Arlet part ways for vacation.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It’s one of my free days. I promised Henry to relax more, work less, and have more fun, so I’m going to try. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>We’re at his house. It’s the first time I come back since </span>
  <em>
    <span>the incident</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and I know Henry is also aware about that, because he has invited some of his friends too to watch rugby. I don’t know if he has invited me to something he had arranged with his friends, or if he has invited his friends in order to be able to spend some time with me as well. He probably thinks that, if there’s more people than just us, it won’t be as uncomfortable. And he’s right. With more people around that engage in conversation with me, I don’t have time to think about that night, and it makes the visit more enjoyable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some of the guys explain to me how rugby works, though I barely retain anything. I see it pretty similar to the american football, but less dramatic. When I comment that to one of the girls while we’re outside having some drinks and the guys inside watching the match, she laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t even say that in front of the guys if you don’t want to see a simultaneous heart attack” she whispers to me with a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Following her advice, I don’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We hear the guys groaning inside, so we can only guess it’s either going pretty good, or pretty bad. A couple of the girls mimic them as the rest of us laugh. Even Kal is showing his support barking loudly inside the house. A few seconds later, I hear the soft sound of his dog paws coming, and I greet him with some scratches when he sits right next to me after giving me a friendly lick on my thigh, uncovered today since I’m wearing some shorts with a <a href="https://i.pinimg.com/564x/4e/72/6f/4e726f8e7680b245b963df2f0bb87124.jpg">striped t-shirt.</a></span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He seems to have taken a liking to you” another one of the girls says, drinking from her beer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s a very loving dog, aren’t you, Kal?” I say, scratching the dog behind his ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, he is, but I was talking about Henry” she replies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, he usually doesn’t invite new people here” another one adds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I take some seconds to think before answering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have spent a lot of time working together on the gallery” I finally say. “That’s what got us closer. We’re friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t know if they’re expecting me to tell more about it, but I simply don’t. I’m not one to talk on his behalf, and whatever I might think, it could be completely wrong. The girls share a look between them, but they’re kind enough to not push the subject any further. If they know more than they’re showing, they don’t say it. The talk goes back to one of the girl’s work, and after that it changes to her boyfriend’s family. They include me in the conversation giving me some context of everything and making sure I’m feeling comfortable with them. They don’t treat me like a stranger, but as one more of them. I see why Henry has them as friends too. They’re nice, they’re polite, and they can go wild if they drink enough, as I can confirm. Just like him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oops! We’re out of funny juice” one of them says when she pours the content of the last bottle of beer in her glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I believe there’s more in the kitchen. Let me fetch it” I say, getting out of my seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I feel a bit dizzy after having been drinking that much, but nothing really unfamiliar to me. I’m used to worse. I make my way to the empty kitchen and go straight to the fridge, looking for another of the big bottles of the yellow liquid. When I get the desired prize, I turn just in time to see Henry coming in with an empty bowl, and smiling the instant he sees me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey. Are you having fun?” he asks, leaving the bowl on the table and starting to look for something to eat in one of the cupboards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. The girls are nice” I say, approaching the table and leaving the bottle next to the bowl. “How’s the match going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To which he snorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s say there’s been better ones” he replies. Then, both of us smile. “How many of those have you drunk already?” he asks then, pointing to the beer with a head move as he pours the content of a bag of chips in the bowl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I believe… this might be the forth one? I’m not sure, I’ve stopped counting” I say, shrugging, looking at the bottle. “Your friends can clearly compete with mine in a drinking contest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That would be a funny thing to watch. Maybe one day we can put them together and see what happens” he says, eating one of the chips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That would be like putting the Avengers and the Justice League together in a ring and see what happens when the bell rings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs, that honest laugh that comes from deep inside him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And in which team are you in?” he asks, then, looking curious at me. “We’re pretty good looking people in the Justice League.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m more of an IronMan kind of girl, you know?” I say, teasing him, as I grab a chip from the bowl and eat it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He plays the offended, putting a hand on his chest dramatically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That man is nothing without his suit” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neither is Batman” I raise my eyebrow, not giving up yet, trying very poorly to keep a serious expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about Wonder Woman?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Badass, but have you heard of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>God of Thunder</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have Aquaman.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have a Hulk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry looks very teased about this, smiling at me as if he’s thinking of revenge somehow. I can’t help but smile this time. Then we hear one of Henry’s friends calling him from the living room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s taking you so long?” we hear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seems like your Justice League is calling you” I say, taking the bottle and starting to head towards the door to the garden. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You forgot something” he calls me, making me turn again, and I see him at the other door, about to leave as well. “Justice League has Superman” he says, smirking, “and Superman always wins.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opens his arms in a very provocative way and raises his eyebrows, like saying ‘yeah, I said what I said, fight me’ and then, with a teasing grin, he turns and leaves the kitchen. He’s such a dork sometimes. I can’t help but smile too, before finally turning and joining the girls again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I could get used to spend my sundays here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a cloudy morning today. Out in the fields near Henry’s house, there’s nothing around but grass. It’s not endless, of course, being as near to the city as we are, but it’s still a massive green field that surrounds his neighbourhood. We have taken Kal for a walk here. The dog takes the lead, I follow behind, paying attention to where he goes, and Henry is some steps behind, attending a phone call from his mother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kal seems pretty energetic right now. He runs and turns every once in a while, looking if I’m following him, which I do. We’re slowly letting Henry way behind us as we run and play through the grass. There’s a point in which the dog stops running and just faces me in a playful manner that I know pretty well, since I’ve had dogs at home when I was a child. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, boy, if you wanna wrestle, we’re gonna wrestle” I say, smiling, before positioning myself as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I make the first move. My knees touch the ground as we poke and hug and push and bark and laugh. As big as he is, Kal has a lot of strength, and being also young, he has a lot of energy to burn. Henry usually makes him work a lot, but this time is on me. My jeans get soiled due to the grass and mud, and <a href="https://i.pinimg.com/564x/76/fd/ba/76fdba99f4e6d04f8cb40914ecfbaf2b.jpg">my shirt</a> doesn’t last longer clean either, but I don’t really care. I’m not scared to get dirty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, a flash of pain in my arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I hiss, pulling it against my body, checking what happened. Three pink stripes along it that suddenly start to bleed reveal the spot where Kal scratched too harshly. The dog, seeing that I’ve stopped my playing, looks at me in confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, damn” I mutter. “It’s ok bud, it’s ok” I say, scratching Kal’s head with the other hand when he comes closer, as if he’s feeling sorry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the few pain I’m feeling, that scratch is bleeding too much. It starts dripping shortly after, making it look way worse than it actually is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you two doing? You’re too silent” I hear Henry’s voice approaching, finally done with his phone call. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he finally arrives near to where we are and sees me, sitting on the ground, with my bleeding arm, his face darkens in concern. He hurries to approach the final distance and kneels right next to me, carefully taking my arm to inspect it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m ok” I hurry to say. “We got a bit carried away. It’s only a scratch, don’t worry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he looks worried, no matter what I say. Frowning, he looks at Kal, who is still next to me like a loyal guardian. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, he didn’t want to do it, right Kal?” I add, seeing he’s not saying anything, conflicted, because he doesn’t really want to scold his so beloved dog, but certain that this was crossing the line. “It’s ok Hen, really, it doesn’t even hurt. He didn’t want to. He’s not aware of his strength. Don’t nag him for this” I try to claim again his attention, in a gentle tone, trying to reassure him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blood drips staining his fingers as well, like trying to prove me wrong. He looks back at my wound again, and then, with a big effort, to my face. I recognise the guilt in his expression, which only makes me sigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m telling you I’m ok” I insist. “I’ve had dogs at home, I’ve been done worse than this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I place my free hand gently over his wrist, and that contact seems to take him back to his senses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s take care of this, come on” he finally says, his voice lower than usual. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry helps me to get on my feet, but doesn’t let me go far. He passes one of his big arms over my shoulders, like covering me, pulling me close to him, and with his free hand keeps my wounded arm at mid height, close to his chest, trying to keep it from bleeding more. Every second of our walk back to his place he handles me with a care and grace that nobody would associate with a man of his size, as if I was a fragile dandelion he was trying to protect from the wind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once we’re back at his house, he carefully cleans my arm in the bathroom sink while I’m sitting on the toilet. He does it with gentle strokes, harmlessly, and I can only shiver under the touch of his fingers, to which he stops, suddenly worried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did I hurt you?” he immediately asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. It’s just… the water is cold” I lie, slightly blushed, looking away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He keeps going, focused on his task, and I stare back at him, contemplating his expression, slightly frowned, eyes fixed on my arm, lips firmly shut, probably still because of his worry. It’s mesmerizing, I could get lost on his face for so many hours, studying closely every detail from it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry closes the faucet and wraps my arm gently in a towel. Then, he checks it. The pink lines aren’t bleeding anymore, and what at first looked like a terrible wound now it’s a scratch, as big as my hand, yes, but a scratch after all. It will heal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See? I told you it wasn’t a big deal” I say when I have him kneeling next to me, carefully examining it. He finally let’s go a deep breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. Kal can really be…” he starts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s ok, Hen. He’s a big pup, we were playing. It’s not my first scratch” I interrupt him. “And knowing myself probably won’t be the last one either. Haven’t you seen how dirty I got? This is nothing compared to when I was at my parents’ and got the dogs for a hiking day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That makes him smile, the first smile since he saw my wound, and I consider that a victory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry anyway. He’s my responsibility.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I’m my own. And yet, I went straight to play with your bear knowing the risks. Don’t put everything on you. I’m a reckless woman, I belong to the wild.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, that makes him laugh and I smile at the sound of it. He looks more relaxed now that he sees there’s nothing to worry about. Then, he slowly lets go of my arm, sliding his hand until it reaches mine. I hold his and give it a slight squeeze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, now that we’re sure that I won’t lose the arm, what if I help you to cook lunch?” I suggest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks at me, smiling fondly. There’s something else in that look, but I can’t tell exactly what it is. Something that seems like gratitude. I don’t understand why.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok. But let’s take care of this first” he says, referring to my wound. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He disinfects it as gently as he washed it, but now I have to make a big effort to not hiss, because it itches this time. I don’t want him to feel guilty again, so I endure it in silence, letting him work. I also need to resist the urge to run my fingers through his curls, falling gracefully over his face. In moments like this, I wonder if I made the right choice. In the little time I’ve known Henry, he has never failed me. More like the opposite. He has proven that he’ll always be around if I need him, he has always been, even the times I didn’t know I needed him until he showed up. Maybe it wouldn’t be the craziest idea in the world, he and I. But I can’t get out of my head that moment in that interview, when he stated very clearly that he didn’t want a relationship. How would it be for us then? A week or two, maybe a month, luckily, and then awkward moments between both of us because he decided he wanted to be by himself again? Or starting to date anyone else? What would it be of our good relationship after that then?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I value our friendship more than to risk it that way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok. We’re done here. Did it hurt?” he asks, looking at me, unaware of everything that’s going on inside my head right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I gently shake my head, smiling with a mix of affection and melancholy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We get out of the bathroom and head to the kitchen. Kal is around, going from Henry to me waving his fluffy tail with happiness. At some point, when we’re preparing the lunch, I get on my knees and start to play with him again, this time less wildly, but still making the animal happy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m completely unaware of the affectionate gaze in Henry’s eyes while he’s looking at us.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After some busy days at the gallery, today seems like we can have a calmed one. At least, regarding visitors. It’s also one of those days in which Henry has nothing to do, so, after his morning exercise routine, he has come to visit me at the gallery, and has taken Kal with him. It’s one of the last days we have to spend together before I go back to Spain for my vacations and he goes to Yorkshire for work, and since there’s nothing to do, we’re in the hidden office, sitting on the couches and talking, while Vesta is outside taking a look in case there’s a new visitor. However, our conversation keeps being interrupted by my phone, which doesn’t stop ringing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>First it’s a call from my mom. I go to answer it a few steps away to have some intimacy. We have a brief conversation in spanish that I end with a “mom I’m at work, I need to go” as an excuse to finally hang up. Then, it’s another call, this time from Nerea, and again I go to get some privacy. Between some other things, she asks me when we’re going to see each other, and I update her with my flying plans for the next week. Henry patiently waits while I answer calls from both of my aunts, my grandparents, one of my cousins, but when I end up the call with a third aunt, he can’t help himself anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus Christ, what’s with your phone today?” he asks when I’m back from the last call.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To which I shrug as I sit on the couch again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re very close in my family, man, I don’t know what to tell you” I say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I get that, but it seems like they all agreed to phone you today” he says, frowning a little, making the wrinkles on his forehead slightly visible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, maybe the fact that it’s my birthday will have something to do with it” I say, biting my lower lip nervously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry opens his eyes widely, looking at me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My birthday?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t tell me it was your birthday!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I forgot, ok?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re supposed to tell those things!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look who’s talking! You didn’t tell me when yours was back in may! I had to find out later!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kal barks, wanting to be part of the conversation as well, looking confused to both of us. That’s what makes us laugh after this ridiculous exchange. Henry moves closer and hugs me, placing a soft kiss on my head while doing it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Happy birthday, Let” he says, still not letting go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks Hen” I say, hugging him back as strong as I can. Then, I do something I’ve never dared to do. Before we fully turn apart, I place a kiss on his cheek. A brief one, very casual, but it’s enough to make my heart beat faster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Any plans for tonight?” he asks, totally unaware of my sudden agitation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you know. Opening a bottle of wine and reading a book quietly at home. Need to honor the old woman I’m turning into” I say, coming back to reality.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. I was going to make you cancel whatever you had. We’re going out for dinner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course. I should have expected something like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do I have any say on this?” I ask, knowing the answer already.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No” naturally, I guessed correctly. “Not when you </span>
  <em>
    <span>hid</span>
  </em>
  <span> your birthday from me </span>
  <em>
    <span>on purpose</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he plays offended while he starts getting up, grabbing Kal’s leash.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you I forgot, don’t be so dramatic” I say. Then, seeing that he’s starting to get ready to leave, I add “Are you seriously gonna leave right now? Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I have stuff to do” he says, not in a suspicious way </span>
  <em>
    <span>at all</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That’s not very subtle. “You better dress up for tonight. I’m picking you up at eight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dressing up?” I turn to face the door, where he’s already at. “Don’t you dare to take me anywhere too fancy” I say, seeing through his intentions easily. “Henry. I mean it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t hear you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Henry” I call. He doesn’t turn. “Henry don’t” still not turning. “Henry!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaves, and I remain there, on the couch, wondering what kind of fortune I have just unleashed upon me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I leave the gallery early, leaving Vesta in charge to close it later. I’m so nervous about tonight, because I don’t know what to expect, that I can’t wait to get home and start getting ready. There’s nothing in this world that terrifies me more than the perspective of a surprise, the unknown, not having the control. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet, the nerves for tonight are more good than bad. Yes, it terrifies me not knowing what Henry’s been up to during the rest of the day, but I also know that it can’t be bad, because it’s Henry we’re talking about. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, I take a shower. I need to relax, or at least to try. I spend a solid half an hour trying to decide what dress I’m going to wear, changing clothes again, and again, and again. Why. Why did he have to do this. Why in the world am I so nervous about this? Frustrated, I’m very tempted to open that bottle of wine I had saved for tonight, but then I remember what happened the last time I drank wine with Henry around and I decide it’s not a good idea. No. No wine. Only water tonight, Arlet. Focus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When I’m about to give up, I see it. It’s quite hidden in my closet, but at this point I have emptied almost all of it and is in plain view now. It’s been a long while since the last time I wore it, but is one of my favorite dresses that I own. I’ve worn it for formal parties, and not so formal nights at clubs. A white one, very simple and fresh, yet very elegant. One that has always made me feel comfortable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, I have a <a href="https://i.pinimg.com/564x/12/08/a8/1208a89bcd4a3fc18f90b4f0b52b825c.jpg">dress.</a></span>
</p><p>
  <span>I barely have time to do something with my hair because picking the dress has taken me so long, so I decide to go for a high<a href="https://i.pinimg.com/564x/bb/26/d0/bb26d0bc6b8f19155225ec556bcbc2be.jpg"> messy bun</a>, since it never fails. I’ve barely finished with it when the entryphone rings, louder than the music I have on, scaring the shit out of me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I fucking late? It can’t be” I speak out loud in perfect spanish despite being alone and I check the time on my phone. It’s not the time we agreed yet. Is he early then? Only one way to know. “Hello?” I say through the receiver.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey. It’s me. Let me in” I hear his voice on the other side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re early” I say. “I’m not ready yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. I thought I could drop something here before leaving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not being subtle at all, do you know that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, we both knew I was going to get you something, there’s no sense in hiding it, and there’s no way to prepare a proper surprise if I found out hours ago” I can’t see him, but I can </span>
  <em>
    <span>hear</span>
  </em>
  <span> his smile right now. “Come on, let me in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I sight, unable to keep myself from smiling any longer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. I’ll leave the door open for you, but don’t you dare to move from the living room” I warn him. “If I see your head peeking into my bedroom I’ll kill you, understood?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I hear him laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Understood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I press the button to open the gate of the building three stories below and I go open the door of my apartment, leaving it only a palm open. Then, I go hide in my bedroom before he arrives. It’s not his first time here, he’ll know his way in. I’m still naked, only covered by a towel since I got out of the shower, because I usually leave the dress for the end to avoid any stains to happen. So, there’s no way I’m going to let Henry see me like this. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Though he has seen me naked before.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Don’t think about it. Not now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyone home?” I hear him asking, then the sound of the door closing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No” I reply, nervously joking. My sense of humor is more like a defense mechanism right now. “I’ll be out in a minute” I say, now being serious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, no problem” he says at the other side of the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It feels pretty weird to be talking to him while being naked, knowing that he can hear me pacing around, so I turn up the volume of the music to, as silly as it might sound, have some privacy. I really don’t feel comfortable with him listening how I walk from the bathroom to my bedroom back and forth. For a change, it’s some spanish pop music, it reminds me of home and I can sing it mindlessly since I know the lyrics.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Focused back on my task, I put some underwear on, some drops of that perfume I can’t live without, and then, the dress. With some simple tie-up heels of the same color and silver chain earrings, the outfit it’s finally complete. I check myself in the mirror, taking a nervous deep breath. Everything looks good, I shouldn’t be worried. And yet, nerves are eating me alive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, don't be silly” I whisper to myself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I turn the music off and I leave my bedroom, finally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, I’m done” I say, grabbing the small white purse I’ve picked for tonight on my way out. No response from him, which is weird. I look up to see what’s going on and I find him looking at me with a surprised expression. “What? What is it?” I ask, looking at my dress, suddenly worried about being embarrassing myself in front of him because I forgot to wear my bra or something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing, I… You look good” he says, recovering quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I avert my gaze, slightly blushed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you told me to dress up” I finally say, looking back at Henry. “You look good as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s wearing a black suit, white shirt partially open under the blazer, no necktie. He looks elegant and casual at the same time. And very handsome. It’s so easy to get lost on how kind he always is and how dork he can be sometimes, that I tend to forget how beautiful he is also on the outside of how used I am to see him by now. This, though, is a nice reminder of that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I force myself to go back to earth, and then I notice the balloons. I can’t fucking believe he brought balloons. It’s only a handful, around five or six balloons, some golden, some white, all tied together to one of the legs of my coffee table, over which there are two packages. Not very big ones, but that doesn’t mean low price. I glare at him, raising an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope you haven’t spent too much” I say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what if I have?” he replies, half a smile on his lips. “Come on, open them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sigh, I sit on the couch, wondering which one I want to open first. I decide to go for the bigger one, since I have the intuition I know what the small one might be. That one is soft to the touch, and when I open it, I find a grey t-shirt, my size, with Superman’s logo on it. I can’t help but laugh when I see it, and sitting next to me, Henry notably relaxes. When I look at him, he has that smile that shows his teeth, his charming pointy fangs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you, Superman always wins” he says, as if it was the most obvious thing. “You’re in the Justice League now, you want it or not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh, what a bummer” I say, jokingly. “Let’s just hope the Avengers don’t hate me after this treason.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too bad, you can’t go back now, you belong with us” his hand strokes my back gently, and I get goosebumps from how he’s looking at me right now, smile still on his lips. “Come on, open the other one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think anything can top that t-shirt though” I joke, taking the small box. It is, indeed, what I was expecting, but I was hoping to be wrong. I look at him, who stares back at me, and then I look back to the beautiful <a href="https://i.pinimg.com/564x/75/f7/6f/75f76fda4dff9ff64d80d0114bcebee5.jpg">necklace</a> I have on my possession: a thin silver chain with a small prism of metal in the center, a simple piece that matches my taste quite well. “Henry” I say, fixing my eyes on him again. “You don’t need to spend that much on me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have to” he says, still looking at me, affectionate. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to. You know me already, these are the kind of things I do. Do you like it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes” I say. “A lot” then, I hand the box to him and I turn my back to his direction. “Would you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He delicately puts the silver chain around my neck, his fingers, yet big, graceful enough to make the clasp work. I feel a soft caress going from my nape down through my neck, as one of his fingers strokes my skin ever so slightly. And then, the contact is gone. I turn back again, looking fondly at him. We might have had our bad moments, as all friendships have gone through, but when it comes to prove that he cares, he’s the best one at it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t turn this into a habit, ok?” I say, placing a hand over one of his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t promise” he shrugs, but smiles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you” I smile too. “For everything.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank me later, when we’ve had dinner” he says, getting on his feet and offering me one of his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I take it gladly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We take an uber to the center of London. I have been here like, twice, probably, since I moved to the city. I can’t believe I haven’t done a proper visit yet, but the gallery takes most of my time, and when I’m not there I’m with… Well, I’m with the man sitting right next to me, and we tend to avoid crowded spaces with tourists if we can for obvious reasons. So, the center has been at the end of my list of places I frequent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The car stops in front of a nice restaurant with big windows that show the very well lighted interior, with a modern rustic theme: white walls, wooden tables and plants here and there. It’s far from the fancy place I expected Henry to take me when he told me to dress up, but still a very nice looking space. We move quickly when we leave the car, trying to drag the less attention possible, since the streets are crowded, and successfully make our way to the inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really thought I was going to take you to some fine cuisine place, didn’t you?” he says when he sees how I look around us, nicely surprised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can still be right” I joke, fixing my eyes on him, smile on my lips. “I would be surprised though, those are not your favourite kind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know me well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As all my moments with Henry, this night is going to stay in my memory forever. The food is the nicest I’ve ever had in a while, except for the times he has cooked for me at his place. We spend hours talking, and joking, and laughing at that table. I can only remember one time I enjoyed someone else's company this much, and it was also with him, the day we met, having dinner in that restaurant near my old job. That day feels now so far away. I don’t know how he does it, Henry always makes me feel I’m the only one in the room with him, that the rest of the world stops existing, because what only matters, what really matters, is the two of us, right here, right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry and I spend so much time talking that we leave the restaurant when it closes, barely after midnight, but the night is still young and we decide to go to a club after that. It’s Henry’s idea, and since I’ve been craving for a good party night for so long, who am I to say no to that. Hidden in the low lights and the crowd of people dancing and drinking, we’re two anonymous faces more having a good time. Nobody pays more attention to us than they would do to another stranger, which honestly, with Henry, it’s a miracle. As for dancing, he’s as wild as someone could expect: if you give him enough drinks, he’s a party animal. We get closer, then we turn away, then closer again, always a smile on our faces, sometimes laughing, being more ourselves than ever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, there’s a detail that lasts throughout the night, and is how Henry is unable to keep his hands off me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At this point of our friendship, we’re quite comfortable with physical contact, but we’ve never done it for this long. Seems like tonight we’re always touching, either he’s grabbing my hand to pull me closer for dance, or he’s gently caressing the end of my back while we’re near each other trying to talk over the music, or an arm over my shoulders, protecting me from the cold as we walk through the empty streets of the center of London at 5am.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know the city could be this quiet” I say, as we cross the street and reach Trafalgar Square, now deserted. The column rises, majestic, in the center of the four massive lions that guard it. At this time of the night, not even the fountains are working.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s more beautiful this way” he says, to which I can only agree. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As we walk across the square, our steps echoing here and there, he suddenly stops when we’re in front of one of the lions. I look at him, wondering what happened, and I find him looking thoroughly at the sculpture. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hen?” I call him, confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks at me, then smiles. I know that expression. He’s planned something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come” he says, pulling me with him towards the lion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t even resist, I give in with a smile and see what he’s up to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We reach the stone platform and he puts my back against it. For a moment, for a split second, a small fraction of time, I think he’s going to kiss me right there, but instead his hands grab me firmly and push me up unexpectedly, making me laugh, and when I realise, I’m sitting on the first level of the platform.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” I say, still laughing, as I see him give some steps back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, he runs and jumps gracefully, climbing to the top and sitting next to me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to ride the lion?” he asks, mischievously, and stands up on the stone, offering me his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think I’m wearing the best outfit to ride a lion” I say, taking it and getting on my feet as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll give you another push, don’t worry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But this time, not even the push helps. After a few failed attempts, I slide down the lion’s side, both of us laughing out of control, he being very close to me, his hands still gently placed on my sides, caressing the parts where he pushed me to ease the pressure, and his face so close to mine our foreheads almost touch. We end up at the front part of the lion taking some silly selfies before going back down. However, we don’t leave yet. At the stairs of the National Gallery, we sit, contemplating the entirety of the square, as the sun starts to grow clearer. Soon, the streets will start to come to live, as the city wakes up, so we enjoy the last moments of calm before it happens. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m wearing Henry’s blazer over my shoulders at this point, my arm entangled with his, and head resting on his shoulder. It’s warm like this, and I’m surrounded by his scent, his cologne, all mixed together. If I could live inside a moment, it would be this one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can take good note of this” I say, breaking the silence after a while. “You officially made your way to the top three of my best birthdays list.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only to the top three?” he asks, pretending to be offended.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, there’s some crazy stuff in that list” I smile, nostalgic, thinking about my friends, and that I’ll see them soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t go into details, but one of them involves fireworks, a beach and a bottle of tequila” I say, still smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, next year I’ll make it the best one” he says, determined.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a whole year away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. I’m not going anywhere. Are you?” he asks, looking at me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I smile fondly and shake my head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I play with his hand, paying special attention to the gold ring on his little finger, one I have noticed he wears a lot, either formal or casual wear. He loves that ring. The symbol in it looks like a crest of some kind, but I don’t know what it belongs to. Henry seems to notice what’s getting my attention, because he flexes his fingers, lifting his knuckles a bit, giving more prominence to the ring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s from my old school” he explains. “They give one to the best students when they graduate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you still wear it, after so many years” I say, softly passing the tip of my finger over it’s metallic surface.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. It reminds me where I come from. It wasn’t a great part of my life. In fact, it was quite terrible” he says. “But I overcame it. It’s a reminder of what I’m capable of, if I’m willing to make an effort for it, if I’m determined enough” he looks at the ring as he speaks with nostalgic eyes. Then, he opens his hand and takes it off, handing it to me. I put it on my little finger, knowing it will look ridiculously big on it, and we both snort a laugh. Henry then takes it gently and puts it on my index finger, in which it fits perfectly. “Would you keep it for me?” he asks. “Until you’re back from your vacation?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I lift my head and look at him, frowning in confusion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This looks like something really important to him, something that he would not trust so easily to anybody. Why now? Why me?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I don’t want you to forget about me when you’re away” he says, looking away with something that seems melancholy in his eyes. “Sure, I want you to have all the fun with your friends and not to worry about me at all. But…” he pauses, then sighs. “Don’t forget you have a friend here too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I stare at him, studying his face, but you don’t have to be a genius to know that he’s concerned about something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re worried that I won’t want to come back” I say. He finally looks at me, and then nods. “Why wouldn’t I want to? Because my family is there? My friends are there? I have been seeing them everyday for almost twenty nine years, some months away aren’t enough reason to make me want to go back” I say, trying to push those thoughts away from him, freeing his mind of such concerns. “I’ve always wanted some adventure in my life, and now I’m finally getting it. The city is wonderful, I love my job... And there’s also you. Why would I ever forget about you, Henry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why would I ever forget about the best thing that has happened to my life?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks me in the eye, smiling fondly after everything I said, but also with a hint of sadness that he can’t hide.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what you think now. When you’re there, it will hit differently.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s such a distinguishing touch of pain in his voice when he says it that only one thought comes to my mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Who abandoned you?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Knowing that my words won’t make any progress, I sigh and I take my purse rummaging through it until I find my wallet. Henry looks at me with curiosity as I open it and, from between the several receipts stored in there, I pull out a polaroid picture, not a big one, but a smaller version. It’s a weird angle selfie from five years ago, and it shows Nerea, Nestor and I on a rooftop, restless faces after a party night, dawn time, just like now. I carry this picture with me wherever I go. It’s my amulet, my anchor to home, to the people I love. As special to me as his ring is to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This was the day I graduated from college. Well, the next day, actually” I explain, smiling when I look at the picture. “We got so wasted I still don’t understand how we managed to get back home. But they were there, with me, celebrating it even when they had to work the next day” I realise this is the first time he’s seeing how my friends look like, and I can see in his expression he’s associating their faces with the name’s he’s heard during the last months so many times when I talked about them. “It was one of the best nights in my life. As this one has been” I look at him when I say it, with his eyes fixed on mine, and then, I do something I’ve never done before. I hand him the picture, ready to let it go. “Keep it for me. Until I come back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry takes the picture carefully, looking at it with a soft smile. This time, it looks genuine, and even more when his eyes fix on me, with an affection I have never seen before on them. He disentangles his arm from mine so he can put it over my shoulders and pull me closer, leaving a soft kiss on the side of my head, resting his lips there for a moment. It’s warm, it’s calm, it’s a nice place to be right now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t want to be anywhere else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Together, we see the sun starting to rise, its light becoming brighter between the buildings. There’s starting to be more cars around, and the first pedestrians are starting to show up. As if it’s the last sign for us to start moving again, the fountains from the square start to work, filling the ambience with the sound of water running. We get on our feet, stretching our tired muscles after a wild night, and, when I’m back under his warm embrace, we start to look for a cab that takes us home.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>So you can keep me</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Inside the pocket of your ripped jeans</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Holding me closer ‘til our eyes meet</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You won’t ever be alone</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wait for me to come home</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://youtu.be/tIA_vrBDC1g">
    <em>
      <span>Photograph - Cover by Boyce Avenue ft. Bea Miller</span>
    </em>
  </a>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ok, so, let me explain this. I didn't plan this chapter to match the song so perfectly, but I was writing that last part (which I had already planned) and this song started to play and I realised it matched so well to this moment of the story that I had to include that part at the end.<br/>There's also a link to the youtube video of the cover I was listening to, performed also by Bea Miller, which in my opinion is what it gives it the perfect touch to it.</p><p>I have only visited London once, and it wasn't a very long visit, so each time I describe places of the city are purely from memory or with the help of my friend google maps lol. But Trafalgar Square was one of my favorite places and I wanted to give it a special spotlight.</p><p>I would also like to make clear that whatever bits of Henry's personal life I might mention in this chapter or future ones are all MADE UP.  I don't have any idea about how Henry's personal life is, I don't know how his past at school was (besides that they made fun of him for being fat), or how his relationship with his ex girlfriends were, I only make it up as I see fit to the story, and whatever similarities to real life are pure coincidence. </p><p>Link words guide:<br/>Outift 1: "I’m wearing some shorts with a striped t-shirt."<br/>Outfit 2: "and my shirt doesn’t last longer clean either"<br/>For the birthday day:<br/>Dress: "Finally, I have a dress."<br/>Hair: "high messy bun"<br/>Necklace: "the beautiful necklace I have on my possession"</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Both sides of the coin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>There's a lot of things that can occur during a vacation trip. During their time separated, we can see what happens to both, Arlet and Henry, exploring each other's point of view.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter has different points of view that change back and forth.</p><p>It also includes a light smut scene, easily skippable, since it doesn't affect the flow of the story, for those of you who want to keep the story smut-free.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Girl, don’t hate me for what I’m going to say, but you’re already dating him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a warm day of August. Nerea and I are laying on the grass, at some point of the enormous green area in the old river course I took Henry when we first met. The sun shines brightly, too brightly, so we have taken shelter under the shade of a tree. It’s too hot to do anything, so I’m telling her everything that happened between Henry and I during the last months, including the incident of the opening party, how I told him I wanted to just be friends, and that “I’m not dating another person” confusing day. We see Nestor coming back to us with three lemon iced drinks in precarious balance. All three of us made our holiday break match so we could spend some time together now that I’m back. We even have planned a weekend trip to Ibiza and have a late birthday party for me, though I really doubt it can be better than my birthday night with Henry some days ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you think that if I were indeed dating him, I’d know?” I ask, looking how Nestor almost trips and drops the drinks, but recovers and continues his path.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe, you’d be the last one to know” she replies. “Or second to last, maybe, I’m not sure if Henry knows either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nestor finally arrives and each of us picks a cup, removing its cold content with the straw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, don't be silly” I say to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did I miss?” Nestor asks, sitting cross legged on the grass and taking a sip of his drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Arlet is dating Henry” Nerea says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not” I immediately reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, let’s recap” she leaves her cup on the grass, next to her, and starts counting with her fingers. “You two had a night encounter, you two got jealous at the mere thought of each other dating another person, you met his friends, you visit him at his place, where said friends stated he doesn’t invite people who aren’t close. He bought you that probably expensive necklace for your birthday, took you out to dance all night </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> lent you his super special and also more likely expensive ring, while you gave him a picture of us that you always carry on yourself. Am I leaving anything out?” at this point, she has seven fingers out and is glaring at me, raising both of her eyebrows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh that definitely sounds like they’re dating” Nestor says, playing with his straw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up you two!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, and I forgot to mention that you said you’re always </span>
  <em>
    <span>touching</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she raises another finger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t say it like that! And I touch you all the time too” I protest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The same way you do with him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t have an answer for that. Yes, with Nerea and Nestor I’m very comfortable with physical contact: we hug a lot, cheek kisses, arm grabbing. But when I think about all the times Henry and I have had that kind of contact, I can’t lie to myself, because I know, even if it didn’t start that way at the beginning of our friendship, it’s different now. It has become something more intimate, a moment between the two of us that we don’t share with anyone else, when we speak without words, when we understand each other. And also, the way it always feels like we’re about to kiss, but that never gets to happen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re not dating” I say, after a brief moment of silence. “Look, he doesn’t want a girlfriend, he said so himself the day before we slept together. And sure, I don’t mind hooking up with strangers that I won’t ever meet again once in a while, but that would not be the case with him. I see him almost everyday, we have a business together. If… If it went wrong…” I sigh, rubbing my nose bridge with two of my fingers,  not sure of what I want to say with this. “He’s important to me. Do I like him? Of course I do, but I don’t want to lose that because I didn’t… settled for what I had” I look at my lemon iced drink, starting to slowly melt due to the high temperature. “And… To be honest, after what happened the last time I opened that way to someone… Well. I don’t have to remind you how that went.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I certainly don’t have to. They know well. They were there to pick up my pieces and try to put them together as best as they could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t be scared forever, hun” Nerea says after a brief pause.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s funny you say that” I reply, “when you were the one telling me to be careful with him in the first place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, when he was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>stranger</span>
  </em>
  <span> you didn’t want to tell me about, and who was going to leave in two days” she protests. “Now I know more than that. And babe, I love you, but I think you would be making a mistake if you don’t try” she puts one hand over my arm, gently. “Don’t allow that son of a bitch to take the control of the rest of your life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I sigh, and then I smile softly. Deep inside me, I know she’s right about that last part. I can’t live with fear for the rest of my life, but… It’s easier said than done. However, I must recognise I already did something to get myself out of my shell and see if I’d be able to put all my trust on him. Giving him that picture was something I couldn’t have thought possible before. If he brings it back when we finally see each other again… That might be the sign I’m waiting for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I look at his ring, fitting perfectly in my finger. I don’t understand how Henry could have thought that I could be able to forget about him, when he’s the only thing I can think about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ibiza is as crowded as we could expect. Tons of tourists come here for all the parties they can get, and it’s not rare to see groups of people totally wasted at barely noon wandering by the narrow streets. It’s so difficult to find a native of the island here other than the owners of the several businesses that I would be very surprised if we ran into one in a party or casually walking through the street. We know better than to start to drink that soon, but that’s our plan for tonight. We arrived yesterday on the island, and we’re only going to be here until tomorrow afternoon, so we better make the most of our time here. Beach all day, enjoying the sun, the view, the drinks, the show (and by show I mean watching the drunk tourists do dumb stuff on the beach), and at night, we party.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I pick for tonight a short black dress that leaves my back all open thanks to two really thin straps that tie around my neck. I’m not making a lot of effort to look extra good tonight, just a casual weekend party look. Since it’s extremely hot, I tie my hair in a messy bun, but that’s all of it. A bit of makeup, a bit of perfume, nothing extra, but I keep Henry’s ring with me. Nerea must think the same, because she’s wearing a similar dress than mine but in a peach color, and instead of a bun, she’s tied her black hair in two long braids that fall right below her breasts. Nestor doesn’t really think a lot. He wears a white shirt with some knee short jeans. Some men just have no taste. But he’s my friend, I have to love him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you told him he looks like a </span>
  <em>
    <span>guiri</span>
  </em>
  <span> like that?” I ask Nerea when he doesn’t hear us.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have, but do you think he ever listens to me?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And we laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We spend an hour in the first club, it’s fun, but when we get tired of the music in that one, too much caribbean for our taste, we move to another, looking for some electronic style, something we can dance with. We find one on the third try. It’s more expensive, but tonight we can afford everything we want. We’re on vacation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The club is big, only illuminated by colored lights at certain spots here and there, smoke machines shooting from time to time, reminding me somehow to the one I went with Henry for my birthday. It is, as all the clubs we’ve been jumping from tonight, crowded to the top, as expected. Music is loud here, we can feel it deep in our bones, and around us people dance all over the place in the semi darkness like there’s no tomorrow. And that sentiment grows deep on us as well. There’s no tomorrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t know how much time we spend dancing. Maybe an hour, maybe two, it’s impossible to know here, where the hours seem days and the days seem hours, where we dance and drink, and dance and drink. With Nerea as my main dancing partner, along with Nestor sometimes, and other ones by myself while they dance together, I get lost in the wild nature of the night, but also wishing </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> were here with me. Wishing </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> were my dancing partner tonight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I feel a couple of big hands landing on my hips, and for a moment I give in and dance, getting lost in the thought of Henry, of his proximity when we move, on his warmth, on how much I miss him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then reality hits me, because he’s not here, these are not his hands, and in case I needed another confirmation, the man behind me reeks due an excess of cologne, instead of the subtle nice scent Henry has. I quickly move away, my heart beating as fast as a horse runs, looking at the guy behind me. Though big, it’s clearly not Henry, but he seems like he’s been enjoying himself with me, a disgusting smirk on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Move” I say, with my voice full of disdain, and I go find my friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re not too far away, on the bar, making out. I try to make my way to them through the crowd of people, but something behind them catches my attention for a second. With eyes wandering by all the people around, not looking in my direction, a familiar face. A face I’ve been missing to see since I left London.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Henry.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Lights start to blink when the music rhythm changes, it’s pitch dark for a few seconds, and then it’s back to the usual dim. When I try to locate him again where I saw him, Henry’s not there. Probably he never was in the first place. There’s no good light in here, and I’m a bit drunk. Maybe it was my desire to see him what made me see his face in the crowd, but it was someone else’s. I know quite well he’s in Yorkshire, working, with no time for parties on an island. It wasn’t him. I couldn’t be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After passing by a couple of tall guys who are walking in the opposite direction, and through the middle of a group of girls who definitely seem to have a lot of interest in them, I finally reach Nerea and Nestor, which stop devouring each other’s mouth when I arrive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got a fucking random guy trying to rub his tiny weenie against me” I say, trying to make me hear above the loud music. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nerea makes a disgusted face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s just move to another corner, maybe he won’t follow” she says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The three of us make our way through the crowd, trying to find another place to be. We seem to have lost the guy for now, but it doesn’t last long. When I’m relaxed and having fun again dancing with Nerea, I feel the same hands on my hips again, and this time, also his crotch against my butt. Disgusted, I move away, pushing the man as hard as I can, which is not much because of all the people around us and how big he is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gett off fucking creep!” I yell at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on you like it” I hear him saying, clearly amused by the situation by his voice tone and the look on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re fucking disgusting” I yell back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You better leave us alone, weirdo” Nerea says next to me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mind your own business, bitch” the man says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I know Nerea wants to kick this guy’s balls so much, but she’s busy right now holding Nestor, who apparently also wants to throw punches to the one who just insulted his girlfriend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, it’s not worth it, let’s go” I say to them. I suddenly don’t want to be here anymore, I just want to go back to the hotel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We start moving, trying to find our way through the crowd, but this guy is stupidly persistent, because he then grabs my arm, making me turn again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on sweetheart, you know you want some…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me fucking go, asshole!” I pull my arm, trying to get rid of his grapple when I see him rubbing his crotch with his free hand, and I push him back again. That seems to put some distance between us and gives me the chance to get lost into the crowd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey babe, you ok? Do you want to leave?” Nerea says next to me when I find them some steps forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, please, before he follows us” I reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he doesn't. We hear a ruckus behind us, and when we turn to see what’s going on, we see what looks like a fight taking place, and it involves that creep that won’t let me go. We take our chance and move towards the exit, leaving the club as soon as we can. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was close” I say, taking a deep breath once we’re outside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You ok babe?” Nerea asks Nestor, who is still tense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would be better if you’d let me punch his fucking face” he says, still mad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t worth it, love. And he got punched anyway, who cares now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes all the way back to the hotel for Nestor to calm down, more or less. I’m still affected by the adrenaline when I get in my room though. I lay on my bed, not bothering to remove my dress, and as I rub my fingers through the roots of my hair, I can’t help but think about </span>
  <em>
    <span>him.</span>
  </em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <b>Henry</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cut! We’re done for today guys! Good job! We’ll pick it up from here on monday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The director’s voice sounds loudly all around the studio, making sure everyone involved hears. I let go a sigh, rubbing my fingers through my hair, now not having to be careful to keep it properly combed for the scene. The crew comes and goes, starting to store everything for the weekend. I walk out of the library set, careful to not step on any cable or something. It’s a hot day, despite being in the studio with the air-conditioning working since we walked in, first hour in the morning. After a whole day of filming together, Sam and I walk back to the makeup and wardrobe caravan to change back to ourselves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh god, I can’t wait to get this suit off, I’m sweating so much” Sam complains once we’re finally there as he starts to unbutton his jacket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I smile, starting to take mine too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The more you think about it, the more you’ll feel the heat” I say, sitting on the chair to allow one of the girls to start removing my makeup with a wipe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why the hell do we have to film with these victorian suits in the middle of the summer? For god’s sake” he keeps complaining as he sits as well. “Couldn’t it have been scheduled for, I don’t know, October or something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I snort a soft laugh and I check my phone for the first time since this morning. There’s a text from Arlet from a couple of hours ago, saying they had arrived in Ibiza already. It makes me smile. She doesn’t have to, but she texts everyday telling me things about her day, her family or her friends, and somehow, it makes me feel closer to her now that we’re so far away from each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I miss her so much. Her laugh, her cheerful smile, her unconditional support. She makes each day special, and she doesn’t have to do anything about it. Her mere presence is enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I generally can’t get her out of my head, but especially the night of her birthday is the hardest to not think about. I find her beautiful everyday, but that day she managed to let me out of words. The moment I saw her walking out of her bedroom with that white dress, I thought it would be the end of me. I don’t know how I was able to keep myself from kissing her throughout the night, especially after discovering myself being addicted to her perfume, that scent of fresh flowers, jasmine, or orange blossom, or both, with a hint of honey. When I smelled it again that night, when we were trying to climb the lion, my mind went back to the night I kissed her, and I almost gave in to the temptation of her lips, attracting me like a siren call.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the last time I kissed her, it didn’t end well. So, now, better safe than sorry, because I don’t want to lose her. She’s the only person, besides my mother, perhaps, that has seen right through me. The one that has been able to read me even when I didn’t want anyone to do so. The one who </span>
  <em>
    <span>truly understands</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If I have to be his friend, so be it. It’s better than nothing at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t mean it’s something easy, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Henry, are you listening?” I hear Sam’s voice calling me back to reality.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I blink, turning my gaze away from my phone and back to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. What were you saying?” I ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was asking you if you wanted to come with me tomorrow to my friend’s party. It’s in Ibiza, so that means it’s going to be wild” he says. My heart jumps on my chest when he mentions the island. “We’d be leaving tomorrow and flying back on sunday morning. I know it’s very little time, but we’d have something to do this weekend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m in” I say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam looks at me, blinking, kind of surprised and confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought it would have taken me more to convince you to come” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To which I give him half a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m still full of surprises.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I look at the picture placed on my mirror, a smaller version of a polaroid, with three smiling faces after a night of party, one of those belonging to Arlet. For a moment, texting her crosses my mind, but I think better of it, and I decide not to. It’s a rushed plan, we’re going to be very little time on the island, and who knows what plans she has with her friends. I don’t want to keep her from being with them more than I already am, having her in London. I can’t be that selfish with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I can only hope I can run into her out of casuality.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I take the picture and put it back in my wallet, where I use to keep it when it’s not inside the book I’m reading at night, or like now, on the mirror, so I can watch it while I get prepared for filming. I carry it everywhere with me like a little treasure, because that’s what it is. The little treasure she trusted me to keep. The promise that she’ll come back to me when August ends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re leaving tomorrow you said?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If we thought it was hot in Yorkshire, we clearly weren’t ready for Ibiza. At least, we don’t have to work wearing three layers of clothes in here, which makes it much easier. I was worried I couldn’t find anyone to take care of Kal during the weekend in so little time before we left, but the crew member that usually takes care of him during shooting time offered to keep him until I could pick him up. I’m glad he stayed in England, because with all that hair, Ibiza would have been a hell for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The morning is as chaotic as a traveling morning could be. It doesn’t matter how much we try to disguise ourselves, we always drag some sort of attention. At this point, I’m really used to it, but it doesn’t make it less annoying. And Ibiza is a crowded city on a crowded island during summers, which only makes it worse. It kinda makes me don’t want to leave the hotel, but then, what’s the point of coming here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what’s the plan, then?” I ask, finishing my hair with some touches, trying to give it a messy and casual style. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My friend has reserved this place exclusively for the party dinner, so, we’ll start there and probably move to a club later” Sam says, checking his shirt on the mirror. “It’s gonna be big, and we won’t be the only celebs attending, so it won’t make us any special.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great” something good, finally. I really hate being the center of attention. A curious thing for an actor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I’m pretty sure there will be a lot of ladies there” he adds, as if that means anything to me. “I know you’ve been single for a while. You might want to have a little fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I look up at him while fastening the watch strap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not that kind of fun for me” I say, maybe a bit too serious, as I look back at my wrist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh” now is Sam who’s looking at me. “So, the rumours are true” he says, finally. “There’s a special girl hidden somewhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what you’re talking about” I lie, instinctively rubbing my little finger from my left hand, where I usually wear my gold ring, and being really grateful because Arlet doesn’t pay that much attention to what the media or the internet might say about that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey man, I’m not one to tell this kind of thing. I totally respect privacy, you know that” he says, shrugging. “If you have a special someone, good for you. It’s something really difficult to find for us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is, indeed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Those rumours are wrong anyway” I say, still touching the spot where my ring should be. “Is just that I’m tired of repeating the same story.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m tired of being just a piece of meat for them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Completely valid as well” he really doesn’t seem to care, which is nice. I don’t want him to dig deeper. “Ok, I’m ready, let’s go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so, our night starts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The food at the dinner is nice. Can’t say the same of the company, though. As Sam said, there’s a lot of girls here, and all of them show some interest in me at some point of the night. Sure, not all of them are the same, some have interesting conversation for a bit, and definitely not all of them have the cheek to openly flirt, which, at this point of my career, I’m clearly not surprised, but there are some of those, and having to deal with this situation time after time, and to politely reject them, is tiring, and makes me wonder if I made a mistake coming here for the weekend.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If only I could see her, it would be worth it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>When we move the party to the club, the night clearly improves. There, it’s easier to lose the entourage of girls that follow wherever I go in hopes to be the winner tonight. They don’t know there’s not going to be a winner, and they’re wasting their time. At least here, with the dim light and all the people dancing, I turn into one more of the mass, anonymous and free. And I can start having fun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time clearly does this thing at clubs when you don’t really know how much time has passed, it can look like it’s been only five minutes, but you’ve been there for hours already. After some drinks, I manage to relax enough to, at least, have some fun watching how Sam dances with a bunch of people he just met. One of the girls of the group of friends looks at me, inviting, but I gently shake my head, with a polite smile. No dancing for me tonight, since it can lead to misunderstandings. And the only person I’d dance with, is not here to do it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I let my eyes wander by, getting lost through the crowd of people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And I see her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lighted by one of the colored spotlights, dancing alone, in a simple, yet provocative black dress that makes my imagination run wild, her bare back facing to me, and face slightly turned, her eyes closed. A vision so clear that could be out of a movie, and makes my heart skip a beat.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Arlet.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I take a quick glance at Sam, who clearly looks like he's enjoying himself, and then I step into the crowd, looking for the girl. But I’ve lost her. I can’t find her where I saw her, so I step forward, going through the multitude, trying to spot her face again. But I get to the other side, and nothing, she’s vanished. I sigh, resting my arm on the bar. A few steps away from me, there’s a couple making out, clearly having way more fun than me tonight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude, here you are” Sam appears from between the crowd shortly after, holding two drinks and handing one to me. “I thought for a moment that you had abandoned me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You looked like you were having fun” I say, my eyes still wandering by the crowd, looking for her face again while I take a sip from my drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why did you storm out like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought I saw someone I know” I say, not giving more details. “Looks like I was wrong, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“These places are like this. You always think there’s someone you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah” I say, resigned. “It might have been that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, I see a couple of the girls of the party, the ones that openly flirt, knowing what they want, and I don’t really want near me tonight, looking at our direction. I mumble a low “shit” and I warn Sam about it, so, when the lights start to blink and leave the whole club in darkness for a few seconds, we start moving again through the crowd to the spot we were before. We pass by a group of girls who have also noticed who we are, or at least they look very interested in us, and find our way back to the other corner, probably safe, for now. Not sure of how long it will last.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw man, my new friends left” Sam complains. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry about that” I say, though he didn’t have to follow me in the first place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway, we’ll find anothers” he doesn’t really look sad about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seeing that a new group of girls has started to follow us, we move again. I’m starting to grow tired of this, and really considering ending the night here and going back to the hotel. But then, I see her again. She’s dancing with another girl who I can only guess is her friend Nerea, but then a guy starts to inappropriately rub himself against her, awaking something inside me I’ve never felt before. My blood starts to boil and I’m starting to walk forward through the crowd of people that still separates us, ignoring Sam’s confused face when I suddenly change the direction we were going. I see Arlet pushing him angrily, but he won’t stop there and grabs her arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How does he dare to touch her like that.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on sweetheart, you know you want some…” I hear him saying, seeing how he’s rubbing his crotch with his free hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me fucking go, asshole!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arlet pushes him back and manages to go away, getting lost in the crowd of people. That idiot really plans to follow her, but I get there just in time to grab his arm and keep him in place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think the girl was clear enough” I growl, trying really hard to be the better person and not throw the first punch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That idiot looks at me, clearly drunk, or high of any substance he might had access to, who knows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You clearly don’t know girls, bro” he says, his disgusting mouth reeking of alcohol. “When they say no, it always means yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leave. Her. Be” I spaciate each word, my anger growing higher each passing second, and my patience growing shorter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Says who?” he makes a stupid grin. “Move, fucking idiot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he throws the first punch. But he’s slow, and drunk, and misses as I move aside. Then, it’s my turn. My knuckles crash against his nose, hurting my hand, but also pushing him back, stumbling, until he falls to the ground, nose bleeding. At that moment, Sam arrives next to me and sees the scene in stupor. Just in time, because I’m very tempted to give that piece of trash the beating he deserves, but I hold myself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude what are you doing?!” he asks, alarmed when he sees the man trying to get on his feet again. But another guy who was watching the scene has already jumped into the fight, and so did both of their friends, the area now slowly turning into a fight arena. “Man, let’s fucking get out of here before anyone recognises us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I feel him pulling from my arm, and for a moment I can’t react, since I still can’t get out of my mind how that scum was rubbing his crotch against her. For a split second, I really want to join them, to beat the shit out of that worm until I break both of my hands. But the thought of Arlet makes me slowly go back to reality, and the urge to find her weighs more than the need to beat this guy’s ass until I make a mash out of him. Right now, what I want more is to see her face, to see if she’s ok, so I let Sam pull me out of that madness that is now happening and we both make our way to the exit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once in the street, we manage to breathe some fresh air. Sam leans forward, with his hands on his knees, trying to keep everything inside after the sudden ruckus and race. I give him a break while I look around, also catching my breath, searching for her. The area we’re at is not well lighted, but I can see three silhouettes at the end of the street, one of them wearing a black dress. Her laugh echoes all the way back to us, and it makes me smile, truly relaxing for the first time since I entered the club. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s ok.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Man…” Sam says, finally on his feet again. “You’re fucking crazy, you know?”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <b>Arlet</b>
</p><p>
  <span>What a night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After everything that has occurred, I throw my heels away and I lay on the bed in my hotel room, not even bothering to change clothes, eyes fixed on the ceiling, but with my mind quite far from here. Adrenaline still runs through my veins, making it difficult for me to fall asleep despite the late hour, but that’s not the only effect it has on me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m starting to feel the tingles in my lower area, craving some attention it hasn’t gotten in so long. Since the last time </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> gave it. My hand slides all the way down through the soft fabric of my black dress, finding the end of it, and I separate my thighs slightly as Henry’s face comes to my mind. A memory, from not so long ago, of that night. We’re in his bedroom, on his bed, his blue eyes asking a silent question, his lips slightly open, craving for more kisses. His breath in my skin, his tongue in my mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s humid down there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, the memory of his hand touching me. Is a delicate motion, more than anyone would expect, and he clearly knows how to move it to produce the desired effect. I remember his fingers, the pleasure they can give, the shivers they provoque on me, how they made me moan and whisper his name in the dark of his room, with his body over mine as we devour each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I gasp, separating my legs a bit, leaving room for more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Here, alone, in the intimacy of the darkness, I dare to admit that I want him over me again, like he was that night. That I miss him in more than one way.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>All the things he did to me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His face is the only thing I see as I reach the orgasm.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <b>Henry</b>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t even bother to turn on the light of my room when I come in. I just remove my clothes, sweating because of the ridiculous heat that won’t leave the island, not even at night, I shake my hand, that still hurts after the punch I just threw to that guy, and lay on the bed, fresh sheets awaiting for me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But somehow, I can’t fall asleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her face comes to me in so many different ways. I see her focused on some papers at the gallery, frowning slightly when reading, with the sunlight bathing her skin through the big windows. I see her laughing, her back against the lion statue, because she couldn’t climb it up. I see her dancing by herself tonight, colored lights tracing paintings in movement on her bare back, when I wanted to see her the most. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that awakes the lion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I try to push it down, feeling a bit guilty, but Arlet’s face just keeps coming, and not only her face, but also the way she feels, her skin against mine, her lips eating mine, all the ways we touch and that make me crave her even more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s hard down there, really hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now it’s going to be impossible to sleep like this. Fuck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I slide my hand under my underwear and I get lost in my mind, remembering how that blue dress slided down, revealing her soft skin, exposing more places to kiss, to bite, to taste. Memories of that night flow wildly now, like a river flooding everything around during a storm. Her fingers through my hair, her legs opening for me, her mouth against mine, moaning in pleasure.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The way she whispers my name.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I growl as I let go, breathing heavily in the dark. I remain there, sweating, trembling, and thinking about her.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <b>Arlet</b>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s really late in the morning when I finally manage to get out of bed. The effects of the hangover don’t take long to make their presence. However, it doesn’t matter how bad it feels, I need to pack everything up before we leave for the airport. But first, I take a shower to remove whatever remains of last night I might still have on me, and change my clothes for something more comfortable, some shorts and a shirt, regular summer wear. The only thing of last night I keep with me is Henry’s ring. I always carry it with me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone knocks on my door when I’m almost done with my luggage. It’s Nerea, carrying two margaritas with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Breakfast” she sings, coming into the room, a smile on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How” I say, closing the door when she enters. “How can you keep drinking. Are you even human?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the best remedy for hangovers, babe, everybody knows.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s true” and I start drinking mine as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We leave for the airport shortly after. It’s not a long flight, but when we’re finally back in the city and they get home, I still have another twenty minutes cab drive until my parents’ house, where I’m staying for the summer, since I don’t have an apartment rented in the city anymore. After a well deserved nap in my old room, full of memories, pictures, books and other stuff I couldn’t bring with me to London, I remember to turn on the phone, which has been off since we got on the plane. Besides some selfies Nerea sent me and some texts from my mom from before I got home, I see I have one from Henry, as well as a missing call. I feel so bad, I haven’t texted him today yet and it’s almost night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I open his chat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, call me when you get home” the text says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oops.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s been a couple of hours from that already. That explains the missing call.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I put the phone on my ear after pressing his number, waiting for his response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey” I hear his voice shortly after, a happy tone at the other side of the line. I wish I could see his happy face as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, Hen” I say, my voice being lower than usual because of tiredness and excess from the night before. “I’m sorry, I just saw your text. I just woke up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs at the other side of the phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you sleep all day? Are you still in Ibiza?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no, no. I’m at my parents’, I just took a nap.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow, that makes him laugh even more. Feels good to hear it. and it makes me smile softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you better do. Nerea brought some margaritas for breakfast, and nobody says no to that woman. Trust me, I’ve tried” I say, still trying to get some more of that laugh. “Long story short, breakfast happened to be more like a lunch because it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> late, and margaritas make me sleepy, so you can guess it was just a matter of time I fell asleep somewhere. I’m just glad it wasn’t in the cab back home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the third time, his soft laugh softens me, making me smile even more. God, how much I miss him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds like you had a lot of fun” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I did” I reply. And then, I proceed to tell him everything about the weekend, including the incident at the club last night. I try to keep it light though, and focus more on the fun parts of the night. “But it’d been better if you’d come with us. You really bring a lot to a party night, did you know? What about you? What did you do this weekend?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s silence at the other side, and I wonder if the call just got cut or something when I hear him sigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I went to Ibiza” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He what?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You what?” I ask, sitting on my bed, instead of remaining laying down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. One of the guys here invited me to a party of one of his friends there, so we made a quick trip to the island. Flying there yesterday morning, flying back this morning. It wasn’t something planned at all, he told me on Friday afternoon” he explains. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why didn’t you tell me?!” I exclaim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I was only going to be there for very little time, and you were with your friends having fun, I didn’t want to take you from them, since you can’t see them so often now” he says, being so logical that it’s annoying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Henry!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I remain silent for a few seconds, not knowing ‘what’ exactly. It upsets me knowing that I could have seen him and I didn’t. Knowing that he was so close, so damn close, and yet I wasn’t aware of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” I say, finally. “We could have gone out the four of us! Well, five with your friend too, I don’t know. It could have been amazing. We could have danced together again, you could have finally met my friends... And probably that way that creep wouldn’t have got near me either” I keep complaining. But then, a flash of realization hits me, as memories of last night come back to me. “Wait, wait, wait. Were you in that club last night?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a brief moment, silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... yes?” he finally says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I can’t fucking believe it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So it was really you who I saw! I thought I imagined it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, before you keep yelling at me” he interrupts me, “I saw you too, and I tried to get to you as soon as I knew you were in that club as well. But you saw how crowded it was, I lost you immediately after I realized you were there” he makes a brief pause and sighs. “And then there was that guy. I saw him when I finally found you again. I saw you trying to get rid of it. He tried to follow, but I managed to stop him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My heart is beating so fast I’m afraid he could hear it on the other side of the phone. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>saw</span>
  </em>
  <span> the guy. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>saw</span>
  </em>
  <span> what he did to me. Somehow, the fact that he saw it makes me feel worse than just me telling him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He saw it too</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it makes it more real, dirty. More scary and disgusting. But that’s not the only thing that crosses my mind right now. I remember the ruckus that formed behind us, the fight. He said that he managed to stop him. Did… Did he…?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hen” I say, my voice completely serious this time. “How exactly did you stop him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not important.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Henry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I hear him sigh again. Not a good sign.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I tried to talk him out of it first” he says, finally. “But he tried to punch me, so… I punched him back” I remain silent for so long after that answer that he starts to worry. “Let?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That fight we saw… was that you?” I ask, my voice barely a thread right now. There’s a knot in my belly out of sudden concern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? No! Hey, listen, because I can hear you worrying from here. I only punched him because he tried </span>
  <em>
    <span>first</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I sent him to the floor, then another guy jumped in, and then another one to defend his friend, and it started to go really crazy after that. Sam took me out of there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I breathe, releasing some of the nerves and tension that suddenly got into me. He’s ok, he sounds ok. I don’t know who the hell Sam is, but I’m thankful he was there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did anyone see you punch him?” I ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmmh… A lot of people?” he replies, and I can guess by his tone he’s not sure of why I’m asking that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean if anyone saw </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> punching him, Henry. If anyone recognised you” that worries me as much as the possibility of him getting hurt in a fight, if not more. He can cure his wounds, but what about his public image if something like this comes to light?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. It was dark there, and most of the people were drunk. He probably won’t know who punched him first anyway, he was totally wasted” he says, clearly not really concerned about that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How can you be so sure about it?” I ask, starting to get alarmed again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t be, but I can’t do anything about it now either” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But…” I start.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is not for you to worry about, ok?” he interrupts me. “Don’t think about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows I’m going to blame myself if any of this is made public, that I’d feel guilty because I was the cause that guy triggered him so much. He really knows me so well, because I do feel like shit right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Henry…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did I just say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you can’t…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah-ah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh I’m so mad at you right now” I growl out of desperation, giving up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No you’re not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, I’m not. But how the fuck does he know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I let go a sigh, scratching my eyebrow with my thumb. I don’t know what I’m going to do with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” I ask in a softer tone. That’s my main concern about all of this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that depends” he says. “Are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I can’t help but smile. Stupid dork.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Henry, I’m being serious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes” I finally answer, still smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then, yes, I’m alright. Though I’d be better if I could have thrown some more punches at that piece of…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hen, it’s ok. Leave it be” I cut him, but it warms my heart that he’s still concerned about that. He has no idea of how he makes me feel whenever he shows that he cares. “Let’s talk about something else. Tell me, how’s the shooting going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that seems enough to distract him from the matter. I don’t want him to worry anymore about it the same way he doesn’t want me to. As I told him, I’m ok. It’s not the first time I’ve crossed paths with a creepy dude like that. What I was more concerned about was about him. When I first thought he could have gotten into that fight because of me, that he could have gotten hurt… I don’t want to think about it, not when I’m hearing his voice telling me about happier things that happened to him during the time we’ve been separated. It feels so good to just hear him again, his soft voice speaking to my ear, that I can’t wait until I can see him again.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <b>Henry</b>
</p><p>
  <span>This one has probably been the longest month in my entire life, but finally, I’m going back to London. I’m in the waiting area of the airport, a cap on my head, covering my face, with Kal next to me, patiently waiting as well, and my passport in my hands, as well as the picture I’ve been carrying with me all this time. Soon, I’ll see her face again in person. I’ll hold her in a close hug again, which I’ve been missing to do even more since what happened in Ibiza. Just a couple more hours, and I’ll do all of that and more, again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last call for my flight is announced, so I put the picture inside my passport, I grab Kal’s leash and I start walking towards the gate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, boy, we’re going back home.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I don't know if any of you would know what the word "guiri" means, so here is a bit of an explanation:<br/>Guiri is a word spaniards use to name or describe a very specific type of male tourist we usually get, which is usually tall, of blonde hair, doesn't matter the body shape or age, but the skin tends to be palid (not albino, just palid) so they get burnt easily at the sun after the first five minutes of being here. Their fashion sense is questionable, since it can vary from people who dress moderately ok, to people who just stoped trying time ago, but both sides have the same element in common: they wear socks with sandals.<br/>Thankfully for Nestor, the similarities didn't get that far 😂😂</p><p>I'm trying really hard to not say it on the story, but for those of you who have not guessed yet, Henry's on the set of Enola Holmes, so the "Sam" going with him, is Sam Claflin. The role Henry really wanted from chapters ago was Sherlock's role, which, being a british actor, I guess it'd be something important for him.<br/>The reason of why I'm trying to not say it in the story is because the cronology of the events I want to tell in future chapters is really made up, so I try to avoid names as much as I can. I know certain things that I want to include in the future didn't happen during the curse of the same year, but I want to fit them in the story anyway.</p><p>This chapter was exciting to write, I hope it was as well to read, but I wanted to finish it quickly, because I want these two to be in the same place again. I don't really like to write them separated, no matter the reason :( They belong together.</p><p>No links this time, I'll leave it up to your imagination!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Colors of Autumn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Arlet and Henry are finally back from their respective summer trips, one for pleasure, the other for work. Now that they're back in the same city, everything seems to be back on track.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The lion statue looks different at the warm light of day.</p><p>Surrounded by tourists, I stand in front of the very same lion Henry and I tried to climb a little more than a month ago, one of the four that guard Nelson's Column at Trafalgar Square. With people sitting everywhere next to it, taking pictures, trying to climb it, more than a majestic and royal looking animal, it looks like a tired cat in the hands of naughty kids. I touch the thin silver pendant around my neck, nostalgic, thinking about the magic of that night.</p><p>Holding my coffee and bringing it to my lips, I put my free hand inside the pocket of my white linen jacket that I’ve rescued from my closet, since we’re in the middle of September and the cold is finally coming back, and I start looking for a cab to go back to the gallery.</p><p>When I arrive, Vesta comes to greet me. We’re apparently alone in the gallery, except for a couple of visitors that are focused on a painting at the second floor, for what I can see from the door.</p><p>“Sweetheart, I’m home” I say when she’s close enough.</p><p>“Welcome back, Arlet” she says, smiling happily, taking my coffee and my bag when I hand them to her. “How did the meeting go? Did we get the collaboration?”</p><p>“It looks promising, but I can’t confirm anything yet” I reply, removing my jacket and revealing the black shirt I’m wearing underneath with some high waist jeans. “They will notify us when they’re made their decision.”</p><p>“I bet we got it” she says, trying to contain a cry of excitement.</p><p>“Don’t jinx it!” I exclaim, whispering.</p><p>“I’m sorry, I’m sorry” she giggles and hands me back my coffee and my purse once I’m done with the jacket. “You have a visit waiting inside, by the way.”</p><p>“I thought I canceled any meeting scheduled for this morning” I say, frowning in concern in case I happened to forget someone.</p><p>“Yes, you did” she says, still too exhilarated to be only for the meeting. There’s something else going on here.</p><p>I raise an eyebrow.</p><p>“What is it, Vesta?”</p><p>“I was asked to not tell you” she says.</p><p>She doesn’t need to. I know exactly about who she is talking about, and a soft smile comes to my lips.</p><p>“That idiot” I say, more to myself than to her.</p><p>
  <em> He’s finally back. </em>
</p><p>I leave my coffee, my bag and my jacket on my desk next to the windows, I check how I look in the reflection of the glass, making sure even the <a href="https://i.pinimg.com/564x/c7/eb/ca/c7ebcab7bddb8b7a69297cf4adeff66d.jpg">loose braid</a> I’ve done with my hair for today looks good, and I try to not fast-walk to the hidden office. But when I open the door and come inside, it’s empty. </p><p>A pair of big and strong arms hug me from behind and lift me up from the ground, making me squeak from surprise and burst into laughter immediately after, to which Henry joins me as well with his low and soft laugh, once my feet are on the ground again. I turn as soon as his arms loose the grip and I hug him too, so happy, so freaking happy to see him again.</p><p>How is it possible to miss someone that much?</p><p>“Why is it that you never tell me when you’re coming?” I ask, still not letting him go. </p><p>“Then it wouldn’t be a surprise” he answers, his arms still hugging me as well. One of his hands slides up to my head and buries his fingers in my hair, and his lips place a soft kiss on my temple.</p><p>“I’ve missed you” I say, so comfortable now between his arms.</p><p>“I’ve missed you too” he says, tightening the embrace.</p><p>We remain like this a bit more, getting lost in each other’s touch, scent, warmth. Making sure he’s there, with me, this time for real. But at the end, we finally turn apart. I look at his face and find his eyes, full of affection, fixed on me. </p><p>“You’ve spent some time under the sun, for what I see” he says, referring to the light tan I still have, but it’s starting to fade away already.</p><p>“Well, I was on vacation” I say, raising one of my eyebrows. “Only beach and tequila for me.”</p><p>Henry smiles fondly at me, showing that pointy fang that makes his smile that characteristic. He still hasn’t cut those curls he let grow for the film, but he’s relaxed a bit about shaving, so he has a bit of hair starting to grow along his jawline.</p><p>“I know you’re working, but can I take you out for lunch?” he asks. “Or bring lunch here. Or whatever option that makes you say yes to have lunch with me.”</p><p>After a whole month away? I’d let him take me to a world tour if he asked me to.</p><p>“What do you prefer?”</p><p>The man seems to think about it, scratching the back of his palm absently. </p><p>“Here, if that’s ok with you” he says, with a thoughtful expression. “I’d hate to be distracted, to be honest.”</p><p>I completely understand that. Going out would mean the chance of having to take pictures with people, probably leaving us no time to properly talk. It wouldn’t be the first time it happens, and frankly he doesn’t look like he wants to be bothered today. I nod, still with a soft smile on my face I can’t get rid of, and he pulls out his phone, ready to place the order.</p><p>We pick this and that from the menu and barely twenty minutes later Vesta comes in with a couple of bags of food the deliverer just brought to the gallery. We use that time to catch up, to talk about everything we did, and of course, about Ibiza. Now that Henry is here in front of me and not on the other side of a phone call, I see a bit of concern in his eyes, and I can’t stop thinking that, if he’s still concerned now three weeks later, how he would have been the night it happened.</p><p>“I didn’t see anything on the internet about that night. Not that involved you at least” I say, leaving my empty bowl of food on the coffee table.</p><p>He shrugs.</p><p>“That wasn’t worrying me” he replies, still with a serious face.</p><p>“It should” I stare at him thoroughly. “The first days after that I was scared to death about it. I don’t want to cause you any kind of…”</p><p>“Stop right there” he interrupts me a bit abruptly. “You didn’t cause me any trouble. And in case something like that would have happened, first of all it wouldn’t have been your fault, and second, it would still have been worth it, because there’s no way I was going to let that scum go after you.”</p><p>There’s a hint of anger in his voice, something I didn’t hear coming from him before. It sounds cold, dangerous… and also kinda hot. But I don’t want him to be mad, so I let it go.</p><p>“Ok, I’m sorry” I say, putting my hand on top of his, softly. “I appreciate what you did, don’t think that I don’t. I’m… I’m just worried, that’s all.”</p><p>His eyes soften when he looks at our hands, and then at me.</p><p>“I’m not saying that” he says. “Listen, my life is a constant worry about what is going to be public or not. It can be annoying and really stressful sometimes. I don’t want it to affect your life as well.”</p><p>As he speaks, his hand slowly closes around mine, his eyes never leaving mine. I wonder, by what he’s saying, if he has also worked hard to keep me away from the public gaze. If he has done more for me than what I actually know.</p><p>“Hen” I say, softly. “I understand what you’re trying to protect me from, but you don’t need to. And it doesn’t really matter what you say. You’re my friend” I gently tighten my hand, holding his. “I will always worry about you, even if you don’t want me to.”</p><p>Henry draws a soft smile on his lips, in silent gratitude. </p><p>“I will always worry about you as well” he says.</p><p>There’s a short pause between us, his blue eyes still fixed in mine. Then, they go down to our hands. He lifts his a bit, pulling mine with it when he does so, my knuckles on sight, and also his gold ring, shining on my finger.</p><p>“You took good care of it” Henry says, still smiling, looking at it.</p><p>“Took it with me everywhere I went” I reply, gently letting his hand go so I can remove the ring and hand it to him. “And it brought me back to you, as you wanted. Though you didn’t need the ring for that.”</p><p>He takes it, observing it with an affectionate look, briefly glancing at my direction. Then, to my surprise, Henry takes my hand back and puts it again on my finger, making me frown slightly in confusion.</p><p>“It looks better on your hand” he says, the blue of his eyes finally looking back at me. “I know you will keep it safe with you.”</p><p>That statement leaves me without words, because this is an important thing for him, something that reminds him of his past, but Henry looks not preoccupied at all.</p><p>“Don’t you want it back?” I manage to ask, still in surprise.</p><p>“It is already back. It’s just you’re the one holding it for me now” he answers, as if it’s the most obvious thing. “Which reminds me…”</p><p>He lets go of my hand then to pull his wallet out, but when he opens it, this time is his turn to frown, confused. Henry checks and double checks every part of it, but no trace of what he’s looking for, apparently. When his eyes turn back to me, he looks worried.</p><p>“I’m sorry, I thought I had it in my wallet, but I must have put it elsewhere” he says, anxious, judging by his voice tone. For a moment, I wonder what he is talking about that has him so concerned, but then I remember about the picture and I raise my eyebrows in surprise. “I promise you I have it, I’ve had it near me throughout the month. I just… can’t remember where I put it.”</p><p>I didn’t expect him to worry that much, to be honest, I thought he’d just put it in his wallet and forget about it until he was back here, but if he has misplaced it, it is because he has been carrying it, taking it out and looking at it several times, and I find that more valuable than the fact that he could have just kept it and gave it back to me once he were back. However, I think about how I’d feel if I had misplaced his ring, or worse, lost it, and I can only understand that feeling of culpability.</p><p>“Hen, it’s ok” I say, trying to calm his nerves, as I see how he rubs the bridge of his nose with the tip of his fingers. “I’m sure you have it” but he’s not listening to me. He still looks clearly embarrassed and feeling guilty about it, which is the opposite thing I wanted when I gave him the picture. I place my hand on his arm, claiming again his attention towards me, staring deeply at his blue eyes. “I promise it’s ok.”</p><p>Henry’s expression is full of regret, a regret that I feel pure and truthful, sincere, as he always is with me. Maybe it scares me to death to give my full trust to someone, but Henry has always done everything right, and he deserves, even if it’s just regarding the picture, that I put some of that trust in him.</p><p>And see what happens.</p><p>“You’ll have it back, I promise” he says, determined.</p><p>“I know” I reply, aware that he’s always true to his promises. “But don’t make a world of it, ok? You’re more important to me than a picture.”</p><p>Autumn in London is very different from what I’m used to. Everywhere I go, I see orange leaves decorations already on the store windows, cafeterias announcing different types of seasonal spices for coffee, the crowds of tourists growing thinner with the end of summer and the foliage in the parks and around the city already starting to change its colors. Back at home I didn’t bother to wear long sleeves until the middle of October, perhaps a thin jacket, or shirt that works as such, because the warm weather persists longer, but here I’m already wearing my brown coat over a long sleeved t-shirt, and September isn’t even over yet. The season feels different here, it looks different, it smells different.</p><p>I watch, some steps away, how Henry throws for Kal a big stick and the dog runs after it, his big furred paws gracefully jumping over the obstacles on his way. It was Henry’s idea to have a day out of the city, a hike day in a near forest area, and since I haven’t left London besides for my summer vacations in my own country, I really liked the idea.</p><p>Except for the fact that I’m pretty sure he hasn’t checked the weather forecast.</p><p>Dark grey clouds gather over our heads, threatening, low growling thunders echoing not too far from here. I look back down and the wind puts some strands of my hair in my line of vision, since I’m wearing it loose today. I try to remove them as I look where I put my feet in order to not stumble with a rock or something, but the wind doesn’t give me a break and keeps putting hair on my face whenever I manage to take it out.</p><p>A couple of big hands hold my arms before I give another blinded step, and then one of them starts to gently move my hair out of the way, revealing an amused, smiley Henry in front of me.</p><p>“Be careful or you’ll trip” he warns me, still with that soft smile, his hand still keeping my hair in place.</p><p>“I was being careful” I complain, looking back at him, trying to keep a serious face but smiling after a few seconds.</p><p>“Sure you were” he replies, not convinced at all, still grinning at me.</p><p>He looks so happy today that his smile is contagious.</p><p>We’re not aware that we’ve been looking at each other for a while now. His hand is still at the side of my head, his fingers buried in my hair, keeping it in place. It feels good there and makes me want to close my eyes and give into the touch, but instead, I keep my eyes fixed on the blue of his in this endless moment. Until we hear Kal coming back, a huge branch between his teeth, looking so proud of himself.</p><p>“That’s not the stick I threw for you” Henry says, looking at the dog.</p><p>A few drops start to fall over us, turning our attention towards the sky. Then, I glance at him, raising an eyebrow.</p><p>“You didn’t check if it was going to rain today, did you?” I say, clearly knowing the answer to that.</p><p>“Come on, it’s just water” he replies, not really bothered about it.</p><p>But right as he says it, a heavy curtain of rain starts pouring over us, making me gasp in surprise, because it’s so freaking cold. Even he has to admit that this is too much to keep going. </p><p>“I don’t care if it’s just water, I’m freezing!” I complain, trying to make myself heard over a thunder that sounds now even closer than before.</p><p>“We can’t keep going like this, I know” he says, defeated this time. “Let’s get back to the car.”</p><p>Fortunately, the car is not too far away. We were at the beginning of our hike, and it takes us around ten, fifteen minutes to get back to it. By the time we arrive, we three are soaked, as if we just came out of a cold shower. I run to get cover at the copilot seat while Henry secures Kal on the back one, and then he runs to get into the car as well. We’re puffing, water dripping from our hair and clothes, making a wet mess inside the car, but when we look at each other, we burst into laughter. </p><p>“Is this how you guys hike here? Because that’s not how we do it at home” I say.</p><p>“I got carried away and wanted to do something different this weekend, sue me” he replies, pissed, but still smiling at the end of it.</p><p>He turns on the engine and we start the drive back under the heavy rain. I’m surprised by how calm and focused he looks while driving with this crazy weather, and at the same time, it gives me a nice feeling of safety. It’s not until we’re entering his street that I realize that we’re heading to his house.</p><p>“Are we going to your place?” I ask, suddenly. “I need a change of clothes.”</p><p>He stops at an intersection and looks at me.</p><p>“I was planning to lend you something so we could still spend your free day together, but I can take you home if you want to” he says, clearly not really happy with the last idea, by the look on his face.</p><p>“I don’t want to be a bother” I reply, not sure of what choice I should take.</p><p>“Nice. My place then. It’s really annoying to get into the city with this kind of rain” he says, clearly lying, keeping driving with what I detect is a small grin on his lips. I say nothing, trying to hide my smile, and I let him get away with it.</p><p>At this point, I know it’s useless to fight it.</p><p>Henry parks the car inside the garage, where he keeps his motorbike, his several mountain bikes and all sorts of equipment. Before entering the house, he keeps Kal tied with the leash, because the poor dog is so wet and dirty he could perfectly make a huge mess if left to his own. </p><p>“Hold him, just a second” he hands me the leash once we’re in the hall and disappears upstairs, coming back a minute or two later. “I left some clothes and clean towels for you in the bathroom upstairs, I can put yours to dry later. You can take a warm shower while I take care of this furry mess over here.”</p><p>“Oh, ok…” I hand him Kal back, trying to hide the fact that I’m starting to blush. I have spent so much time in this house, I have cooked with Henry, I have spent time with his friends, I’m really familiar with it by now, but somehow, the thought of having a shower here makes me feel weird. Probably because I haven’t gone upstairs since the night we spent together.</p><p>“Make yourself at home” then, he turns his attention to the dog. “Ok buddy let’s take care of you.”</p><p>Kal barks happily, as if he understood what Henry said. Then, they go to the back of the house, and I head upstairs. Flashes of memories of that night come as I ascend, making my blush even more intense, and thanking there’s no one to see it. I make my way to the bathroom, a spacious, white, fancy looking bathroom that I feel really bad stepping into, as dirty as I am right now. I find the pile of clothes and towels he left for me. I realize it’s the same clothes he left for me that night, white t-shirt, black sport shorts, but with an additional grey sporty jacket, in case I feel cold. I surrender to the smile that is fighting to bloom on my lips. </p><p>I take off my wet clothes and I get in the shower. The warm water makes wonders removing the cold from my body, and also the nerves that have taken over me during the last minutes. Then, I open his soap bottle, and it shocks me how suddenly the air is filled with Henry’s scent. I blush intensely, trying to remember myself that I’m alone here, that he’s downstairs washing Kal, but oh god, that scent, that glorious scent. I’m going to carry it with me for hours.</p><p>Some minutes later, after finding his hair dryer and making my hair presentable again, tied in a comfy messy bun and keeping on me Henry’s ring and the necklace he gifted me, I’m dressed with his clothes, jacket included, and walking downstairs barefoot, carrying my wet clothes with me. It surprises me to feel the warmth the floor is emanating, wondering how that is possible, until I realize he might have some sort of underfloor heating or something and has turned it on. I look for him at the back of the house, where I saw him disappearing, and once there I follow the noise of the blowdryer and Henry’s complaints. I find them in the laundry room, slash Kal’s bath area. Henry is trying to finish drying Kal’s hair, now all clean and shiny. Henry, on the other hand…</p><p>“Holy shit. Did you attempt to swim through a mud pool?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe, amused by the views.</p><p>“Haven’t you heard that mud is good for your skin?” he says. </p><p>Then, he turns the dryer off and turns to look at me. His smile freezes as he sees me, as if he’s surprised to find me like that, but he recovers quickly and gets on his feet, Kal taking his chance to run and hide somewhere inside the house, away from his arch enemy, the noisy wind machine. Henry takes a couple steps towards me, then, remembering he’s dirtier than before, he points me to the dryer, on the opposite wall. We take care of my clothes, letting the machine do its work. The brown coat, however, must be hung, since the dryer would ruin it. While we’re at it, I notice Henry glances at me from time to time, when he thinks I don’t notice, but he’s not really subtle.</p><p>“Ok, this should be done in an hour” he says once we’re done. “I’m going to…” then he makes a gesture with both his hands, pointing to his body.</p><p>“Yeah, you look like you just fought the Loch Ness monster” I joke, smiling in amusement, taking a good look at the dirty mess he is right now.</p><p>“Do I look like I won at least?”</p><p>“Eeeh…”</p><p>“What do you mean eeeh?!” </p><p>We burst into laughter and then he goes upstairs, leaving me wandering by the main floor. I end up sitting on the couch, looking through the window. Outside, the curtain of water falling right now is so thick I can’t barely see the end of Henry’s yard, sky so dark it looks like the sun is setting at mid morning, and thunder echoing in the surroundings, getting closer. Kal comes out from his hiding place and sits next to me, laying his now clean and soft head on my thigh. I pet him behind his ears, where I know he likes it.</p><p>It’s not even been five minutes when the lights suddenly turn off, leaving us in the shadows, since it barely enters light from the outside.</p><p>I hear Henry cursing upstairs, his voice muffled by the bathroom door. It caught him, apparently, still in the shower.</p><p>He comes downstairs several minutes later, all clean, comfy clothes on as well. I believe this is the first time I see him in sweatpants, and it’s not a bad view at all. </p><p>“You ok here?” he asks, once he’s found us.</p><p>“Yeah” I say, still with Kal relaxing on my lap. “I believe power went out all through the street, if not all the area.”</p><p>“Fantastic” he complains. Then, he looks at Kal. “Oh, I get all the scratches and bite attempts, but with her you’re all nice, you traitor.”</p><p>“Come on, don’t be jealous. Do you want me to pet you behind your ear too?” I joke, raising a finger and flexing it in a scratching motion.</p><p>“Jokes on you, I do. You don’t know what it is to bath this little fucker. I deserve some treats as well.”</p><p>I don’t know if he’s joking, but I don’t care, I like this game we’re playing. I make him a gesture with my head, like saying ‘come here’, and he shamelessly takes a seat on the floor, at the opposite side of Kal, next to my leg. When he’s within my reach, I run my fingers through his hair, right over his ear, in a soft motion. He’s had a haircut recently, but I can still bury my fingers in strands of his hair, moving them gently as I draw abstract patterns with soft caresses. I don’t know if it’s on purpose or something unconscious, but Henry ends up resting his temple against my knee, exposing more the side of his head, as if he’s asking for more, so I give it to him. I pass my fingers behind his ear and then I stroke his neck, softly, with the very tip of my fingers, which I’d swear it takes a soft, low purr from him that he’s probably unaware of. It makes me smile fondly, and I keep going. I do all the way up again, as slow as I can, giving my attention to different areas, until I’m gently playing with a small strand that starts at his forehead. I see how his wide shoulders untighten, I feel the weight of his head a bit heavier on my knee, and his breathing sounds slower, relaxed. I have only seen him in peace like this once, months ago, in this same house.</p><p>Time is frozen now. There’s only silence between us, and the sound of rain falling outside.</p><p>We hear a click, and in a split second, the light is back, waking us from this trance we were submerged in. Henry lifts his head, I pull my hand back, Kal raises his ears. Time goes back to its course, leaving that moment of intimacy back, only available now in our memory.</p><p>Henry gets on his feet as quick as he’s able to and leaves the living room, muttering something about starting again the dryer. Kal jumps from the couch and follows, thinking he’s up to something fun. I remain there, reliving the moment we just had. The moment we also had an hour before, with him pretty much doing the same to me, his fingers through my hair. There’s something so intimate in the way we touch, I can only think about what Nerea told me this summer. We’re always touching. And it’s true. I don’t touch him the same way I’d do with the rest of my friends.</p><p>“A penny for your thoughts” his voice says behind me, his hands resting on the back of the couch.</p><p>“Mmh?” I turn my head to him, distracted by his presence.</p><p>“What are you thinking about?” he asks, with a soft smile on his face.</p><p>“Oh, nothing. I was just… Today turned out to be quite different to what I was expecting, that’s all” I say, shaking those thoughts out of my head.</p><p>“Is that bad?” he asks, slightly frowning in sudden concern.</p><p>“Different doesn’t always mean bad, only different” I say, smiling at him. “Instead of an adventure day in the forest I’m having a calm day in comfy clothes. Both are good options, but very different ones.”</p><p>That seems enough to bring calm to him again, as his expression relaxes as well, his smile coming back. He moves to the side of the couch I’m in, offering me his hand, which I look in confusion.</p><p>“Come” he says. “I’ve been needing another pair of hands for something, and now feels like the perfect chance for it. If you want to, of course.”</p><p>“Sure” I take his hand and I get out of the couch, following him through the house.</p><p>Henry leads me to a smaller room on the main floor, filled with shelves full of books and figures from different shows, movies and games, which at this point doesn’t surprise me at all, since I’m quite aware of his nerdy side. It’s not a secret for anyone anyway. Besides that, there’s a huge corner desk, with some paints and brushes and some other painting stuff in part of it, where I guess is where he paints his minis, and a screen with a half assembled computer tower in the other part. When he stops in front of it, I guess that’s the project he needs some help with.</p><p>“Ok, let’s see…”</p><p>He starts rummaging through some papers spread on the desk as I carefully lean against the edge of it, half sitting, looking how he frowns slightly while he reads, focused. Then, he picks a couple of tools, a thin screwdriver and something similar to some tweezers.</p><p>“Ok, what I need you to do is to hold this small plate over here” we lean over the open belly of the tower and he points it out. “You have thinner fingers than I do, they’ll fit better.”</p><p>As I introduce one of my hands, he guides me. When I reach the plate, I carefully put it in the angle he tells me to, using this time my other hand to keep it from moving, as he uses the tweezers to put a really tiny bolt in one of the holes and starts to screw it. He takes his time, because at this angle the bolt might fall inside and would be a pain to take it out again, something that I suspect that has happened to him already by the special care he puts on it. I look at his face, his focused expression, eyes fixed on the bolt, on what he is doing. During all this time we’ve been friends, I’ve learned that Henry puts all his effort, his passion, in everything he does. It’s one of the things I like more about him, his commitment. I see it when he’s helping me at work, when he’s cooking while we’re at his house, when he tries to make each of my free days memorable. Henry doesn’t try, he either does the thing or he doesn’t. And he’d rather do it.</p><p>His eyes find mine while I’m distracted looking at him. </p><p>“You good?” he asks.</p><p>“Yeah” I reply, looking down at the plate. He’s done with the first bolt.</p><p>“Ok, keep holding it, don’t move.”</p><p>He puts another bolt and repeats the same. During all this process, our faces are really close to each other. I’m only staying in place, paying attention to what he does, in case he wants me to move it or something, but he’s leaning over more each time, at only a few centimeters from me, making me wonder if he really needs to be in that angle at all.</p><p>“Nice” he says when he’s done with the other bolt. “Ok, now...” he takes my hand as gently as he can and moves it very slowly a bit up. “Theeere you go, perfect” and starts screwing another bolt. </p><p>The last two enter faster, and finally, my job as a plate holder is done. He puts his hands out of the tower with an excited ‘yes!’ and cups my cheeks, placing an enthusiastic kiss on top of my head, making me laugh. </p><p>“I’ve been stuck with that part for weeks now. Thank you” he says.</p><p>“These hands were made for holding plates in tiny spaces” I joke, taking a laugh from him. “Do you have anything else I can help you with?”</p><p>“Well I… It’s your free day, I don’t want to make it boring” he says, hesitant.</p><p>“This is not boring at all! Come on, man, give me some work to do. I’m your assistant today” I reply, making his smile come back to his face again.</p><p>The thing is, I’m not really into all this computer stuff, but he does, and I think about all the times he’s stayed with me at the gallery when he’s not really that much into art. I can only offer that help, that time, in return. Besides, there’s no need to share all of someone else’s interests if you’re enjoying each other’s company. That’s what he does for me, and now that’s what I’m doing for him. At the end, it’s not what you’re doing, it’s with whom you’re doing it.</p><p>I end up helping him for a while more, sometimes handing him tools, sometimes holding another plate or a flashlight for him because he’s projecting his own shadow and can’t see properly inside while he works. One way or another, Henry always finds something for me to help him with, and slowly, we progress a lot with the tower assembly, which seems to make him happy.</p><p>“Wow. Look at the time. We got carried away” he says, checking his watch. “Are you hungry?”</p><p>“A lot” I admit, feeling like a hole in my stomach now that he mentions it.</p><p>We move to the kitchen and we start to prepare something. At this point, Kal joins us as well, attracted by the scent of food being cooked. Henry looks like he’s used to cook all alone, but whenever I visit, he seems to enjoy when I join him as well, which only makes me want to help even more when I’m around. </p><p>The meal tastes good, and the company even better, and when we’re doing the dishes, I think about how it doesn’t matter if we were supposed to be at the forest this morning, or if we spent it at his place working on a computer. For me, the most important thing of this kind of days is to spend them with him. </p><p>“Well, it clearly wasn’t the day I had planned” Henry says, leaning against the counter next to me once everything is clean. “But it was a good one, don’t you think?”</p><p>I nod, pushing myself up to sit on the counter, by his side. </p><p>“A really good one. I’ve discovered I have some hidden talents” I reply.</p><p>“Like holding small computer plates?”</p><p>“Exactly.”</p><p>We share a laugh. I’m so glad to have him back here with me, after all this time we’ve been away. London it’s not the same without him. I put a couple of wild locks that fall over his forehead back into place, making him turn his face to me when I do so. At this distance, I can see the little brown stain on his left eye.</p><p>“Hey, may I ask you something?” he asks. “It’s ok if you don’t want to answer though.”</p><p>“Sure” I reply, now with my curiosity peaked after the last comment.</p><p>“How long have you been single?” he asks, making me open my eyes a bit more. “Don’t answer it if you don’t want to, seriously. I’m just… surprised. And curious.”</p><p>I think about it, trying to make some maths in my head.</p><p>“I’d say around a year and a half by now” I finally answer. “Maybe a bit more than that. I’m not sure.”</p><p>“And how is that?”</p><p>I give him a sad smile.</p><p>“That’s another question” I say.</p><p>He nods, understanding. </p><p>“Sure. I’m sorry. You don’t need to answer” he says, a kind, honest smile on his face. </p><p>“It’s ok” I say. I think about it for a short pause, trying to figure out an answer I’m ready to give. “After the last one I… chose to protect myself.”</p><p>He frowns, concerned.</p><p>“Did he hurt you?”</p><p>“Not physically” I hurry to make it clear. “But it was like… like being so sure about something, about having been drinking pure water from a spring everyday, and then finding out you were totally wrong all the time, that it wasn’t water, but a poison that has been hurting you so slowly you didn’t realize until it was too late. Until…”</p><p>“Until everything was irretrievably hurt, and you’re not sure if it could be fixed” he finishes for me, looking first at the kitchen floor and then at me.</p><p>“Yes” I say, slightly surprised about the accuracy of his words. “It has happened to you.”</p><p>It’s not a question, but he nods, confirming my words.</p><p>“Once. A long time ago” he says. “We were engaged.”</p><p>“Oh no. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“It’s ok, it was many years ago” he continues. “You know how I travel a lot. She… grew tired of waiting for me to come back home each time, and left” I can see how his clean shaved jaw tenses for a moment, but when he turns his face back to me, he has a kind expression. “It takes time, but the damage can be fixed.”</p><p>I give him a soft smile, thanking him for sharing this with me.</p><p>“You deserve someone who stays” I say. “Or even better, someone who can travel with you.”</p><p>“Thanks” his blue eyes stare at mine, smiling sadly back at me. “But I know that’s something really difficult to make it work.” </p><p>I don’t really know much about that, I haven’t seen myself in that situation, but if I loved someone that much to accept to marry him, I’d wait for him each time he had to leave. And if I could, I’d follow him wherever he went, because my home would be with him.</p><p>Henry drives me back home some hours later, when the rain is not as aggressive as before and lets us see a bit of the sky. I’ve changed back to my clothes, now all dry except for the coat, that is still a bit damp, so he told me to keep his jacket.</p><p>“It’s too small for me now anyway, I can’t wear it. You’d make better use of it” he said.</p><p>So, now I own it.</p><p>I still have the suspicion that he likes to see me wearing his clothes though.</p><p>As I enter my apartment, my phone starts to ring. I pick it up, though I don’t recognise the number. On the other side of the line, I can hear the voice of a man that sounds familiar to me but I can’t put a face on.</p><p>“Miss Caronte? I’m Arthur Grendel, we met some days ago.”</p><p>“Oh, Mr. Grendel. I wasn’t expecting your call” I say, now remembering the man I had the meeting with at the National Gallery.</p><p>“I won’t trouble you for long, I only wanted to give you the good news as soon as possible. The collaboration is yours, we’d be more than glad to work with your gallery.”</p><p>Well, those are indeed good news.</p><p>We discuss the arrangement of a new meeting soon, as I try to keep my voice as neutral and professional as possible, but inside I’m dying to jump and scream in happiness right now. I can’t wait to see Vesta’s face when I tell her that, in a few months, a fraction of the pieces of the gallery will be exposed at the National Gallery itself.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I don't know how I survived to this chapter. I'm pretty sure my levels of sugar got super high when writing the hair caressing part.</p><p>Yes, I did my own computer scene. No, I'm not sorry for it. This is the kind of nerdy content we deserve.</p><p>As always, comments are very welcome &lt;3 They make me want to keep writing!</p><p>There's only one link in this chapter, for the braid, at the beginning:<br/>"making sure even the loose braid I’ve done"</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. The dark side of the moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The dark side of the moon is the hidden side of our satellite we never see, always kept away from our curious eyes. With all the attention he constantly gets from the media and his fans, everybody knows about the public side of Henry that he allows the world to see, but it has come the day that someone has crossed his barriers and has taken a look to that hidden side of him that Henry never allows himself to show.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Before reading, I would like to point something out (there will be a more extensive explanation at the end notes, so I can keep this one as a warning and spoiler free).</p><p>This chapter contains some angst moments. The cronology of the events transcurring in the fic might not be 100% accurate, since I add things as I see fit, so be aware that if I write about Henry filming a certain movie and then about something that happened in a different year, please be aware that I know, I just chose to make it happen alltogether.</p><p>There is a scene that I wrote *DAYS* ago, before certain pictures came to light yesterday. I want to make clear that any resemblance is PURE COINCIDENCE. I will not write about that neither now nor in the future. I don't want to change it now because that's how I planned the story to go since I started to write it. </p><p>You can read a more extense explanation about this at the end notes, but I recommend to do it after you read the chapter, since they will contain spoilers from it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It’s been some crazy weeks. Since I got the call from the National Gallery, work has increased so much I’m considering hiring a second assistant. During the last month, the gallery has been receiving a lot of portfolios after being publicly known that we’ll be having a partnership with the National Gallery next march. Yes, it’s a date that seems far from us now, but the amount of work that we have until then is unbelievably crazy. Besides starting to classify the pieces we currently have for that future exhibition and dealing with the pile of emails from people who want to work with us, we’re also reaching out to artists we’d like to join us as well, hoping they can confirm, as well as dealing with the usual flow of visitors, collectors, sales, and organising the new exhibition that will take place in December. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I have so much to do I almost don’t see Henry when he enters the gallery.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Almost.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Because I’d notice him anywhere, anytime, no matter what.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hen!” I happily exclaim when I see him, leaving my desk and hurrying to arrive at him, giving the man a big, strong hug. He’s been very busy lately too, leaving us very little time to see each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let” he hugs me back, so tight I believe he’s going to break me a rib or two.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s something in the way he’s hugging me, the way he said my name, that tells me there’s something going on. When I feel I’ve hugged him long enough, I pull back to see his face and confirm that, indeed, something is wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” I ask, looking at him in concern, but still in his arms, not breaking the hug completely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face, usually a bright sky on a sunny day, is clouded in a mix of angst, anger and embarrassment, a stormy expression that can’t mean anything good. Even if I didn’t know him as well as I do now, I’d know something wrong was going on only by looking at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we…?” he then points to the door with his head, a silent plea to go out, to go to somewhere where we can talk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course” I say, not a single hint of doubt in me. “Let me grab my coat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We’re under a pile of work as high as the building, but he will always go first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I grab my long grey coat, my phone and my purse. I let Vesta know that I’ll be out for a while, and that she can delay her paperwork without any issue if she needs to help any visit. Then, I walk back to Henry, who is patiently waiting by the door, jacket still on, hands in his pockets, looking through the big windows. It has started to rain, as I can see. A light rain that won’t soak us if we walk under it, but still annoying enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, let’s go” I say, as I put my hood up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry does the same, then takes my hand and pulls from me, taking me outside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Razzies? What is that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We walked in silence until we arrived at the café from Holland Park, the one we like to go to if we have the chance because of its privacy. Once inside and with a warm cup of tea for each of us, our coats piled up on the brown couch, he updated me about his situation saying that he got a call from Marco, his agent, this morning, telling him he has been nominated in two categories for the Razzies, which, for the context, I can guess it’s some kind of prize, but for the way he says it, it doesn’t look good at all. So I ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Razzies are like the opposite of the Oscars” he explains, playing with the spoon, moving it inside his tea cup. He looks a bit more relaxed now that he’s been able to talk about it, but he’s still tense and upset. “They give prizes to the worst movie, worst script, worst actors, and so on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you got two nominations?” I ask, out of incredulity, now understanding that terrible mood he has today.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods, staring at the inside of his cup, avoiding looking at me, still hurt by the humiliation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Worst actor, and worst duo on screen with Ben” he says, with a low voice tone filled with sadness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the… What’s wrong with them?” I ask, trying really hard to not raise my voice in the café, though I’m raging inside. Those people, whoever the fuck they are, have clearly no sense of taste, or critical thinking skills, for what I can tell. Besides, they’re dead to me for the way they’re making Henry feel. If there’s anyone on earth who doesn’t deserve to feel like that, it’s him. “Hen, you know that’s not true at all, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I put my hand over one of his, caressing the back of it gently with my thumb, and that’s what finally makes him look at me, a sad smile on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think so?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I do! What kind of question is that?” I protest, trying to keep my voice as low as I can. “You work really hard and it shows on screen. I know that, and besides me, a lot more people do. Those pieces of shit are no one to say the opposite.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My cursing makes him smile wider. He always finds it funny, probably because of my accent. Whatever it is, looks like it’s working on cheering him up. Calming down a bit after seeing him smile, I move closer to Henry on the couch we’re sitting at, rubbing a hand on his back, trying to comfort him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have I ever told you” I start saying, “that I’ve never liked Superman until I saw you playing the role?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, really?” he asks, passing an arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah” I say. “Never liked the cartoons, nor the other movies. I couldn’t even watch Smallville, and it was quite popular between my classmates back then. No matter how handsome the guy playing him was, I always found him boring. But then, when yours came out, I decided to give it a chance” I look at him in the eye, as close as we are. “It was the first time I found him interesting. And it was thanks to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry smiles even wider, resting his forehead in mine for a brief moment. Then, he kisses my temple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you” he says. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably the same you’ve been doing until now” I reply. I’m pretty sure he’s had bad days like this one before, I only want him to feel better, but he already knows how to overcome this and doesn’t need me for that. “You already did good before we met.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Henry has something to say against that, he seems to think better about it and not say it. He just rests his cheek on my head, and I give into the half hug we’re in. Maybe it’s because we haven’t been seeing each other as much for the last month, but now that I have him again this close, I don’t want to let him go. Not until I’m sure he really feels better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I keep you for myself just a little longer?” Henry asks, apparently thinking the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes” I answer. “For the rest of the day, if you want to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That seems to be all he needed to hear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I text Vesta telling her to close the gallery early. I’m not coming back for the rest of the day and I don’t want to leave her alone with all the work. Everything else can wait. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry and I give a long walk, hoods up, my arm entangled with his. We get inside Hyde Park, now empty because of the weird weather day, and allow ourselves to enjoy the peace here. I spend a good ten minutes kneeled on the ground trying to befriend a squirrel that has climbed down her tree and is looking for some food, while Henry watches me in amusement. I hear him laugh when I talk to the squirrel, so I play the offended and sush him, but actually relieved that he’s feeling well enough to laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, he walks closer, the squirrel runs away and I look up at him, pretending to be upset.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I almost had it and you scared her!” I say, trying really hard to not laugh, and failing, because I know that it’s not true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, blame me” he replies, smiling while offering me his hand to get back on my feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We laugh, and push each other, and hug, and keep walking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After that, we walk across Green Park and end up in front of Buckingham Palace, where we take a quick look and leave before anyone notices who he is, because even with this weather and the season we’re at, there are still some tourists visiting. We also walk near Westminster, but Henry doesn’t stop much there. His goal seems to be somewhere else. Across the river. As we approach, the London Eye becomes bigger and bigger before us. It’s the ideal day to have a ride. Ugly weather, October, not many tourists around. We don’t have to wait long for our turn, and once inside, I sit comfy next to him, hoods down finally, enjoying the privacy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The views from here are breathtaking. As we’re slowly going up, Henry points to different places we’ve been or he wants to take me when he has the time, including Trafalgar Square, Hyde Park and vaguely the area where our gallery is located. When we’re at the very top, we just enjoy it in silence, his arm over my shoulders, my head resting on him. I can’t remember when we got so comfortable with this kind of intimacy, but honestly, who cares, as long as both of us are comfortable with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re already dating him”</span>
  </em>
  <span> I remember Nerea saying to me.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shut up, not now.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you feel better?” I ask, when the wheel starts its way down, and I try to keep those thoughts away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmhm” he makes an affirmative noise, with his lips resting on my head, as he looks at the city skyline, with his hand playing with a strand of my hair. “You tend to have that effect on me” he mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those words make my heart beat faster, producing inside me an immense feeling of joy. Being the one that manages to make him feel better feels so good. But, buried under that joy, I can also sense the panic, waiting for its turn to come out. The terror, the paranoia that opening myself to someone gives me usually take control of every situation like this. How is it possible for a single man to provoke such contradictory feelings in me? How can he make me feel so good most of the time, make me daydream about the different ways I’d like him to kiss me, and at the same time make me panic at the mere thought of it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some days later, after finally hiring a temporary second assistant to help us at least for some months, and in the middle of a busy morning at the gallery, I’m half way through an email when I get a phone call. I don’t recognise the number, but I pick it up anyway, because at this point, there're so many people, artists, collectors, partnerships, who have my number that I can’t afford to hang up on anyone who’s calling. To my surprise, it’s none of the previous options.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello. Is this Caronte?” a male voice asks when I answer the call. It’s vaguely familiar, but I can’t remember exactly where I know him from.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Who’s calling?” I ask, frowning in confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is Marco, I’m not sure if you remember me. Henry’s agent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. Now I do. The man who basically called me a distraction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, I remember you. What can I do for you?” I ask, trying to keep my polite voice tone, though it’s very obvious that talking to this man is not my favorite activity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is Henry there with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I frown again, confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. He’s supposed to be in an interview today” I reply, remembering he told me about it a couple of days ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right, he’s supposed to be. But he’s not” he explains. “He doesn’t pick my calls, and since he seems to enjoy spending so much time with you, I thought he might be there instead of where he’s supposed to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t like his tone, I don’t like what he’s implying, and I don’t like having to speak with him, but there’s something more important than my dislike for this man, and is Henry, who is missing at work. So I gather all the patience I have to keep the conversation going and make him go to the point.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, he’s not here. What do you want me to do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said at that party that you care about his career, right?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes” I remember saying something vaguely similar to that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then talk some sense into him and make him come. He will listen to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What makes you think he will?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Caronte, he always does” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing. “He needs to come, otherwise he’s on risk to be sued for breach of contract.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t hear a single ‘please’ in his request, but I remember myself it’s not the time to be salty about it. Not if that puts Henry’s reputation in risk. I sigh, rubbing the bridge of my nose with my fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you at least know where he could be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, if he’s not with you, he’ll probably be at home. I’d go myself, but you’re closer to his house than I am. And time is of the essence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he says that last part I start to get out of my chair and grab my things. He could have said that in the first place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When does he have to be there?” I ask, holding the phone between my ear and my shoulder while I put my coat on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He needs to be here some minutes before 12pm. With enough time for makeup.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I check my watch. That gives me more or less an hour and a half. Resting the twenty minutes that will luckily take me to get to Henry’s place, and probably twice that, if not more, to get to the studio, that doesn’t give me much time to convince him. It will have to be a really good talk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He will be there” I say, determined, though not entirely convinced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what I wanted to hear” Marco says. Is it really that hard to say ‘thank you’ at least? “Ah, and Caronte.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” I’m walking towards the door, making a gesture to Vesta to warn her I’m leaving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do what I can to keep you out of the attention of the media, but you two need to make it easier for me. Those pictures clearly don’t help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, he hangs up before I have the chance to ask him what pictures he’s talking about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I stop the first cab I see, which luckily is free. After giving the driver the address I want to go, I open the browser on my phone, not sure about what to google. I try for the simplest thing I can think of, and I type ‘Henry Cavill’. Lots of pictures of him, lots of articles. Like looking for a needle in a haystack. I’ll have to be more specific, but how? For what Marco said, it sounded like it were pictures of both of us together, so… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As embarrassed as I am of only thinking about it, I type ‘Henry Cavill girlfriend’. I tap on the most recent article, one from a couple of days ago. I scroll through some filler nonsense, a summary of his career, his movies, and so on, until I find something.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“...Cavill, who has been confirmed single since his last breakup two years ago, has been seen walking through the streets of London by the hand of his new girlfriend less than a week ago. While the identity of the girl is still a mystery, these pictures leave little to no doubt that the famous actor and one of the most eligible bachelors from the country, Henry Cavill, is now out of the market. Will she be the chosen one who makes him think about forming a family? Or will this anonymous girl become another one to add to the list of failures in his search of true love?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I try to not throw up while reading that. Obviously, the one who wrote this doesn’t know Henry at all. But after that part of the text, I finally find the pictures.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I recognise us. These are from the day he came to me feeling terrible about those horrible prizes he was nominated. This is right after we left the gallery, on our way to the café. We’re both with the hood on, because it’s raining, but Henry’s face is easily recognisable. Mine, for some kind of miracle, isn’t visible in any of the pictures, because I tend to look down whenever I walk while wearing a hood. That angle has saved my privacy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Can this be the reason why he hasn’t shown up in the studio? Has he seen these pictures?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m going to throw up.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>As if I wasn’t having enough, I get a text from Nerea that says “IS THIS YOU????” and a link to what I suppose is the same article I’ve been reading just now. I text her back a “Can’t talk now, will explain later” because honestly I can’t even think about it without feeling overwhelmed, and knowing her, she will phone me if I don’t text her back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the car stops in front of Henry’s house, I ask the driver to wait, no matter how much time it takes, promising to pay him twice the price for the time he’s here. Then, remembering that now might be eyes on Henry due to the recent news, I put my hood on before leaving the car, and when I’m finally at his door, instead of knocking, which I don’t think it would work because he’s probably expecting Marco, I search for his number on my phone and start a call. I didn’t want to call him first because I didn’t want to give him the chance to hang up on me, but he can’t ignore me if he knows I’m at his house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes him two tones, but he picks it. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Suck that up, Marco.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Arlet?” I hear his voice say, confused by the call.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi. I’m at your door. Can you open me, please?” I ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I hear him sigh. For a brief moment, I think he’s going to hang me up as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At my…? Hang on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hangs up, indeed, but a short time later, the door in front of me opens, with Henry on the other side, and he moves to let me in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not raining, why do you have your hood on?” he asks, confused, closing the door behind me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he’s asking that, he might not know about the pictures yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m cold” I lie, taking it off now that I’m inside. “Hen, why are you here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It happens to be my house, I live here” he replies, walking into the living room as we talk, sitting on the couch. “Why are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know why, Henry” I say, following him and sitting by his side. Kal comes to greet me and I give him some scratches while I talk to his owner. “Marco called me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs, rolling his eyes and rubbing his face with the palm of one of his big hands. He looks tired, as if he hasn’t had a good sleep in god knows how much, and hasn’t shaved for a couple of days. His curls run wild, uncombed. All of that usually fits inside his casual style, but he can’t hide from me, he's not doing ok.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey” I take his hand and give him a light squeeze. “Whatever it is, I’m here for you, ok?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know” he says, giving me a sad smile. “But I’m not going to go, Arlet, I’m sorry. I know he has sent you because you’re my weak spot, but it’s not going to work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His weak spot?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why you don’t want to go?” I ask, trying to remind myself that time is of the essence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He seems to think about a proper answer, so I wait for him to find the words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you ever had… one of those days in which you just can’t do anything?” he asks. I nod, familiar to that feeling. “I’ve done hundreds of interviews. It’s always the same questions, the same answers, I know how to do it. But there are days that…” he sighs, frustrated, rubbing his nose bridge. “I don’t know. I’m blocked and I don’t want to talk to anyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which I can only understand. He’s a human being, with his thoughts and his feelings. His good days and bad days. But people only care about what they can see, not the rest. It’d be exhausting for me to have to deal with all the pressure he is under every single day. It is already exhausting having to deal with these stupid pictures already, to be honest, and it’s only been twenty minutes since I found out about them, I can’t imagine what it must be having to deal with what he has to everyday, for so many years, with no chance to have even a little vacation without any curious eyes laying on him. And I’m here, adding more pressure to him, which only makes me feel the worst person in the world. But I don’t want him to be sued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re talking to me now” I say, still holding his hand, trying to not let that thought sink in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s easy to talk to you” he replies, his eyes fixed in both of our hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then pretend you’re talking to me” I suggest, trying my last bullet. “Remember that trick you told me when I was so nervous for that interview? You’re in a forest, far away from here…” I start repeating from my memory. “It’s calm and silent. Everything is green around you, you can feel the grass under your feet, the scent of the flowers… And I’m there with you, like I am right now, so you can talk to me” I look at his face, trying to read if it’s working or not. “There’s nobody else, only you and me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes meet mine, and I can see affection in them. A hint of a smile starts to show on his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you come with me?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course” I let go of his hand to put some curls out of his face. He closes his eyes, giving into the touch of it. If that’s what he needs me to do, I’ll gladly do it. “I’ll be there with you all the time. But we need to leave now, Hen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry gives me a last look, then nods and starts to get on his feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll get a change of clothes and we’ll leave” he says, and starts to walk upstairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While I wait for him to be ready, I prepare Kal for the ride as well. I know Henry prefers to take the dog with him everywhere, so I guess bringing the animal with us can only help. I text Marco to tell him we’re about to leave as I see Henry finally walking downstairs with a light grey suit and a black shirt underneath, ready to go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess I have no time to shave” he says, grabbing his keys, his wallet and everything else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope” I say, opening the door. “But you look really handsome like this. I like it” I add with a smile, making him finally do the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The three of us get in the car and I hold Henry’s hand during the ride to the studio. I pay the driver the promised amount, and even a tip over that for the inconvenience. Then, we get inside, where a group of people is already waiting to swarm around Henry, preparing him properly to be in front of the cameras, leaving me with Kal in a corner. I check my watch. 11:43am. Am I good or what?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a bigger studio than the one we recorded the interview for the gallery at. There’s a big set well illuminated, with a couple of armchairs, surrounded by big expensive looking cameras and spotlights all facing to the same spot. The rest of the huge interior has this look of unfinished building. From where I’m at, I see from the corner of my eye someone walking towards me. When I look, I see Marco, on his casual clothes, putting his phone inside his pocket. I resist the urge to roll my eyes just to be polite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Caronte” he says when he arrives next to me, with that air of superiority that makes me want to just turn and leave. “I’m impressed. You managed to make him come.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t ask me to do this ever again” I say, raising a threatening finger, anger taking control of my voice, but trying to keep my tone low so only he can hear it. “If he needs a day off, give it to him. He’s exhausted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smirk on his face fades away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Interviews can’t be cancelled that easily. Even less with this little time” he puts himself in a defensive position, arms crossed over his chest, while looking at me as if I know nothing about his job.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then rearrange it. Schedule it for another day. Do whatever you’d do if he was ill and couldn’t attend in any possible way” I look at Henry, who has that absent expression of the one who doesn’t want to be there but tries to hide it, while people around him give some makeup touches here and there, or fix his hair. “Back in the party you said you care about his career. Well, I care about </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> as a whole. He’s been working non stop during the last couple of months. He wakes up so freaking early to keep training, and then spends the whole day filming, or having photoshoots, or interviews. What he needed today was to rest, to charge his batteries, not to be here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m afraid to have gone too far, but then I see in Marco’s face how he acknowledges that I’m right. The man sighs and rubs his temple with two fingers in a circular motion. Then, he looks at Henry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll try to clear out his agenda for the rest of the week” he says, looking back at me, which makes me raise my eyebrows in surprise, not expecting that sudden change of mind. “I know you think I’m an asshole, and you’re probably right. But I care about him as well. We’ve been working together for many years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Marco is going to tell me now that Henry even went to his wedding I will just vomit. But at least I can see that the man isn’t as terrible as I thought he was. Both of us share the same concern for Henry’s wellbeing, each of us in our own particular way. But what I get from what he just said is that he is, somehow, apologising. Of course, not with those specific words, but I get that’s the intention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If he trusts you enough to have been working with you for so long, you can’t be that much of an asshole” I say, giving him a half smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smirks, taking that as a sign to bury the hatchet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Spending time with you might be better for him than I thought” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I smile as well, thinking about the last time Henry came to me, some days ago, when he needed a distraction and I managed to improve his mood, even make him laugh. Then, I suddenly remember the pictures, and my heart starts to beat loudly in my ears. I grab Marco’s arm before he turns, preventing him from leaving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The pictures” I say, lowering my voice a bit more. “Are they gonna ask him about that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marco looks at me, slightly confused and trying to think. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… don’t know. I can ask.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t let them ask him about the pictures. He doesn’t know yet” I ask him, my voice full of urgency and worry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can’t hide that from him forever. He’ll find out sooner or later” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, but it can’t be now. Not like this, and definitely not in front of the cameras.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t know how Henry might react to it, but it certainly would be better if nobody is recording it. Marco seems to think the same, because he nods, understanding the issue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll see what I can do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no need to thank me, it’s my job” he says, starting to walk away. Then, he turns again. “Thank you for bringing him here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nod, giving him half a smile. It seems that he can be polite if he wants to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When I see that Henry is almost ready, I walk closer to hand him Kal, who looks as happy as always. Henry kneels to pet him with a soft smile on his lips, and I kneel next to him so I can whisper and only he can hear me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll do great, as you always do” I say, “but I’ll be right there, where you can see me, in case you start feeling uncomfortable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I point to where Marco is right now, talking to another man, probably doing what I asked him to do and making sure personal questions are off the table. Henry looks at that direction and nods, turning his gaze to me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for coming with me” he says, lowering his voice as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anytime” I say, looking him in the eye, smiling at him. “I have your back, Hen. Always.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiles, looking like he wants to say something else, but people are starting to prepare to start recording, and we need to move. I leave him with Kal and I go to stand next to Marco, behind the cameras, in an angle where he can see me if he needs to. We are given instructions to remain in silence for the full lenght of the shooting, and then, they start. It amazes me how Henry is able to transform himself in front of the cameras. He looks so natural when he talks, so open and comfortable, with Kal at his feet, giving him some extra comfort as well. The interviewer seems to stick to the questions he has on the paper, and I can only hope that he doesn’t go on his own and starts asking something he shouldn’t. But he doesn’t. There are several times in which Henry looks directly at me before he starts answering a question, but besides that, everything goes well, everything is filmed on time, and before we can realise, the interview is done. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They had a couple of naughty questions I managed to take off” Marco says to me when we’re able to talk again. “But you need to tell him about the pictures.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will” I say. I know I’ll have to, but right now is not the best moment to do so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A bark of Kal warns us about Henry’s proximity, walking towards us with a more relieved expression, his shoulders not as tense as before. He shakes Marco’s hand, and his agent pats him on the shoulder, they share some words and then Marco leaves to do his job. Or to give us some privacy, I can’t be sure with him. I walk some steps until I’m finally next to Henry, smiling fondly, proud of what he just did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you feeling?” I ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Less stressed now that it’s done” he answers, getting even closer to me. “I know why you did it. I told you that you don’t need to worry about these things…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I told you I will always worry about you” I interrupt him, raising an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He makes a brief pause, looking down and smiling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you” he says then, his eyes back on me. “For always being around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be for as long as you have me” I say. And I mean it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry passes his arms over my shoulders, a gesture he has done so many times, and something I’m comfortable with, but this time I’m very aware of everyone’s looks, all their eyes fixed on us, studying how we behave, how close we are, wondering who is this girl who has appeared out of nothing bringing him with her, if she’s the one appearing in those pictures with him. I move away, taking a deep breath, which makes Henry look at me in sudden confusion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not here” I whisper, rubbing my nape with nervousness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frowns, not understanding what is going on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uhm… Ok. I’m sorry” Henry says, his voice tone lower than usual.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hen, I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your cab is here, Mr. Cavill” one of the interns interrupts us before I can finish what I was going to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, thanks, we’ll be going now” he says, quickly recovering from that and pretending everything is fine. Then, he turns at me. “Are you coming too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure” I certainly want to make sure he’s ok, and I need to have a talk with him when we’re alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But as soon as we get inside the car, my phone starts ringing again. It’s Vesta this time. I feel terrible when I remember I didn’t even tell her when I was going to be back. I pick it up as the car starts moving, hoping everything is going well there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vesta. What is it?” I ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Arlet? Mmm I have these men over here. They say they had a meeting with you” she says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I cover my face with the palm of my hand, exhausted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit, I totally forgot about the meeting” I mutter. I look at Henry, who’s been looking at me since I’ve answered the call. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s ok, go” he says, understanding. His face, though, doesn’t seem to be really happy with the idea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?” I ask him, covering the phone with my hand so the conversation doesn’t get to Vesta. “I can change the date and…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry shakes his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go. I’ve kept you enough for today. You also have a job to take care of.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He seems honest when he says it, and I’m sure he really means it, because that’s how he is, caring and understanding, but I also have the feeling that a part of him doesn’t want me to leave his side yet. I sigh, really tired, still having a busy afternoon to deal with, and knowing I’d rather be with Henry than taking care of that. But he’s right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell them that I’m sorry and I’ll be there as soon as I can” I say to Vesta. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok. I already told them you had to leave for an emergency, which I guess it’s the case?” she asks, not really subtle. I can’t blame her, I left suddenly and without any word, only a gesture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Thank you Vesta. I’ll see you in a bit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I hang up, almost throwing my phone back to my bag out of frustration, resting my head on the back of the seat closing my eyes. There’s so much going in my mind right now, so much left to do, and what I only want to do is to curl up on a couch and relax with the man sitting next to me right now. To stop the world and be with him, because that’s what he needs. What we both need.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you ok?” I hear his soft voice next to me.</span>
  <span>“Yes, yes” I say, still eyes closed, fighting the sudden sickness I’m starting to feel right now. “I need a minute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It ends up being more than a minute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cab makes its first stop at the gallery, and this is the first time I really don’t want to go there. I look at Henry, who seems to be back to his gloomy mood from before, looking through the window, and I take one of his hands, claiming his attention to me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take some rest, ok?” I say, still worried, when he turns to look at me. I don’t know if I’m making the right decision right now. “Play some games, read a book, walk with Kal. Have some Henry time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods, giving me a sad smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be fine” he says. “You need to go, you’re late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, he’s right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As much as it hurts me, I don’t have time to watch the car leave. As soon as I close the door, I climb the stairs to the door of the gallery and prepare myself for all the hours of work I still have today, trying to ignore that voice in my head saying that I’ve taken the wrong decision. That I should be with Henry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, let me see if I understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s night already, I’m at my apartment, laying on my couch, finally with some comfy clothes on, consisting of some pajama pants, the Superman t-shirt Henry gifted me for my birthday, and his sport jacket, that somehow still has some of his scent on. On the other side of the phone call, Nerea is repeating point by point what I just explained to her about the pictures. Yes, that’s me. No, we’re not dating. Yes, we’re holding hands. No, I told you we’re not dating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Girl” she says. “You two really need to have a talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I sigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. I haven’t told him about the pics yet, and who knows if he has found out already” I say with a tired voice. I’m exhausted from all the work, all the emotions of the day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I mean, yes. But not only about that, babe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nerea, please, not now, I’m not in the mood” I say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll only say that I know what I see in those pictures, and it’s not two friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nerea…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you feel about those?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I frown, confused. I have been all day so worried about Henry, about his bad day, about how he might feel about all of this, that I haven’t stopped to think how </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> feel about these pictures. Sure, they don’t show my face, and my privacy is still safe, but for how long? It won’t take much for a smart paparazzi to connect the dots, Henry, the gallery, me. Or it won’t take them much effort to catch us off guard and take new pictures, in which I probably won’t be that lucky, and then, the anonymous girl will have a face and a name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know” I admit, letting go a deep sigh. “I like to be with him, to be there for him if he needs me but I don’t want to… I don’t want to go viral, Ner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know” she says. “But you knew the risks, babe. You should be more careful from now on, or you’ll soon have a horde of crazy stans waiting at your door to kill you and take your place” she jokes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone starts knocking on my door, strange, due to the late hour. It might be my landlord, or one of my neighbours, a nice old woman from next door who usually bakes too much and gives me some spare cupcakes. But it is still weird for her to be knocking at this time of the night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Girl, I’m gonna hang up, we’ll talk tomorrow” I say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, but this is not gonna end here, do you hear me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, sure. Good night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The knocking persists, and I get on my feet, pulling from the shoulder of the jacket, putting it back into place, on my way to the door. I wonder what the hell she baked today to bring it here so late.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But when I open the door, I freeze when I see him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Henry!” I exclaim out of surprise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I thought he’d be at home, relaxing after a good dinner, about to go to bed. But he’s right here, different clothes than this morning, just some jeans and a sweater, and he has shaved, but with the same look of sorrow, if not worse. That’s what really surprises me. I thought he’d be fine with some rest, but somehow, he’s doing worse than this morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi. Ehm… Sorry I… Can I… Can we…” he points with his head at Kal, who I hadn’t seen until now, out of the shock of seeing Henry here. “...stay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes” I say, without a shred of doubt, worried about the way he’s stumbling with words, when he’s never done that before. “Yes, come in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I move to let them enter and I close the door behind them. I pet Kal when he comes to greet me, waving his fluffy tail, and I release the leash from him, letting him wander by wherever he wants. Then, I focus my attention on Henry, who is looking at me as if he has just seen me for the first time. I can’t help myself and I hug him, something I’ve been wanting to do all day and I couldn’t. His arms don’t hesitate to wrap me as well in his embrace, so tight and desperate that I can only worry even more about what brought him to my place this late. Here, surrounded by his scent, buried in his warmth, safe of sneaky cameras and curious eyes, I let him hug me and be himself as much as he wants to, as he needs to. So he can heal. So we both can.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better now?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper, after a couple of minutes, still not letting him go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. I’ve been wanting to do this all day” he mutters against the skin of my neck, where he has buried his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too” I confess.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” he finally separates, only a bit, enough for him to look at my face. “I thought I bothered you this morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I frown, trying to remember how and in which way he could have done such a thing. Then I remember I moved away when he tried to hug me, and I open my eyes wide.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m sorry Hen, that wasn’t about you at all” I say. “I, ehm…” I open and close my mouth several times, trying to think the best way to tell him. “There’s something we need to talk about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry groans, irritated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it’s bad can it wait until tomorrow?” he asks, his eyes looking at me, giving more strength to his petition.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you think it’s something bad?” I ask, not really surprised by his reaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it good?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm I don’t think so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gives me then the most cruel puppy eyes on earth, because he’s obviously sad and it makes twice the effect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it works.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok. It can wait for one night” I say, resigned, but giving him half a smile. At this point, what’s another night compared to the week the pictures have been out already?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But we’re good?” he asks, still with a hint of worry, raising one of his eyebrows while looking at me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. We’re good” I promise to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That seems to make him relax, as if that was the most important part of the matter for him. And knowing Henry, who is very clear about his priorities, it probably was if he thought that he had bothered me this morning. I take his hand, breaking from the hug finally, and I lead him to the couch, where Kal already has made himself comfortable and now rests from all the excitement of the day. We take the part that is not occupied by the large dog, making ourselves cozy as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing here, Hen?” I ask, going straight to the point. As is usual now between us, I take his hand as a sign of support. He gives it a soft squeeze in return.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, I know it’s late” he starts. “I tried to keep myself busy for the day and avoid thinking too much. I tried to read, I tried to play some games, even tried to make some progress assembling the computer, but… The house was too silent” he explains, this time trying to not look at me, weird, because he always tries to make eye contact. “It was so silent it was deafening, and… for the first time there, I felt really…” he makes a short pause, struggling with the last word, as if he doubts about saying it out loud. “...lonely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, his eyes meet mine, and I see in them something that I’ve never seen before. A hint of desperation, a silent plea, asking for me to not leave his side. All the things everyone tends to hide from the rest of the world, things that even I have locked up in a chest with a key that I’ve thrown to the nearest river, he’s showing them to me now. And sure, I have seen Henry having bad days, I’ve seen him nostalgic, and melancholic, and angry, and also happy, of course, but now it’s different. I see him, for the first time, vulnerable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know that I like to have you around” I say. “Never hesitate to come to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He manages to smile and nods. In the short time he’s been here, Henry seems to be feeling better now only because he has company. I can understand that feeling of loneliness because I’ve felt it myself so much. I felt it when I was still living in Spain and, after a night out with friends, I had to go back to my empty apartment, where I lived alone when I really needed someone there with me. And I also felt it when I first moved here and buried myself in work, because at least in the gallery I felt better than in my own apartment. Since then, things have changed, of course, but not much. The gallery feels lonely while Henry is traveling, and my apartment still feels empty when I come back from spending a day with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, however, it feels perfect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, if you were about to go to sleep, feel free to do so. I can make myself comfortable here” he says, after a silent pause between us.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I look at the couch, which is not as big as the one he has in his house, and definitely not big enough to fit him, even less with a sleeping big dog on it, and I look back at him, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Henry, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> barely fit in here, I don’t think there is a human way you can make yourself comfortable on this dollhouse sofa” I say. Then, I get on my feet and extend my hand to him. “Come.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes my hand and gets out of the couch, following me through the small room until we are in front of my bedroom’s door. Henry stops me there, looking at me with confused eyes. Maybe it’s the late hour, or the terrible day we had, or the fact that I’ve been missing his company every single second he wasn’t around, and perhaps I’m being selfish here but, in the same way he came to me in the middle of the night because he felt lonely at home, I don’t want to be away from him tonight either, not even being separated by one room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“None of us has to be alone tonight” I look at him, reassuring, caressing the back of his palm with my thumb.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I see his Adam’s apple move as he swallows, and then he moves his head, nodding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My bedroom is not as big as Henry’s, but it has a decent size as well. The double bed has the same length as the big window, the only one in the room, framed by white curtains, so back when I installed myself here I moved the bed next to it to be able to see the sky every night, before falling asleep. A bunch of pictures are sticked to the wall and the frames of the mirror that hangs on the wall next to a small dresser, on top of which I keep the jewelry, including his ring and the necklace he gifted me, that perfume that smells like orange blossoms and reminds me so much to home, and part of my makeup, besides a couple of books I’ve finished reading and some mementos from my friends and family I’ve brought with me. There’s also a small closet, and another door that takes to the bathroom. That’s all of it. Simple, but enough. I don’t spend that much time here either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry takes a look around him, paying special attention to the pictures on the wall. Some of them are from trips I’ve made with Nerea and Nestor, and some other old friends I’ve lost contact with throughout the years. Other ones are from family gatherings, where we’re all posing smiling around the table, or some silly selfies I took with some cousins, aunts, grandpas. All of them are from happy moments I don’t want to forget. And when I see that he stops his gaze in a particular picture, I know he’s found the newest addition to the wall. I had printed one of the selfies we took with the lion at Trafalgar Square the night of my birthday. We look happy and not too drunk, with the light of the nearer lampposts framing us perfectly. It’s one of my favorite pictures.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this your mom?” he asks, pointing another pic near that one. I nod when he looks at me. “You look so alike.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been told that I look more like my dad” I reply, pointing another picture to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow. Yeah. I take it back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I snort a laugh and I head to the big bed, placing myself next to the window, my usual spot. I leave my phone on the window frame, which has enough space for me to use it as a bedside table, and I feel the mattress sinking next to me, sign that Henry is making himself comfortable as well. I roll over myself so I can see him. He looks so out of place right now, even a bit nervous, since, and I’m very aware of it, we have only been in a situation like this once, and we both know how it ended. But this time is different, because we’re only a couple of friends seeking for each other comfort after a rough day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s what I keep telling myself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you cold?” I ask, after covering us with a couple of blankets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No” he mutters, moving closer to me, but still not sure if he’s allowed to touch me, or how to behave in this situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I decide to help him by moving closer as well and placing my hand first on his neck, then burying my fingers in the hair of his nape. That seems to make him function again, since he then passes his arm around my waist, aware that he’s allowed to touch, to make himself as comfortable as he wants. I’d never thought I’d have his scent impregnating my sheets this way, and I’ll certainly miss him tomorrow night, when he’s gone and that’s the only thing from him that will remain with me in this room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We stare at each other’s eyes for a long time, I’m not sure how much. There’s no words, no uncomfortable silence between us, only his eyes fixed on mine in a moment frozen in time, until eventually we both fall asleep.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>About the scene of the pictures of Arlet and Henry holding hands:</p><p>I wrote that scene *DAYS* ago. I insist, DAYS. Certain pics of Henry that we all are aware now, came out to light YESTERDAY. You can guess how shocked I was, because what are the odds, right? But at the same time, since he's a celebrity, it's not that weird that we can guess how certain things work and we write about it in our fiction. So, no, I didn't want to change it either after I knew about the pictures because I already planned to have that on my story. </p><p>What I want to say with this is, I didn't base that scene on the pictures. It was a coincidence they came out just now, but my conscience is clean, since I know I finished the chapter before knowing those pictures existed. I will not, and I want to make this crystal clear, that I will NEVER write anything based on that girl, those pictures, or anything that has to do with his REAL relationships.</p><p>Whatever bits of Henry's life that I might write about are completely made up to fit my story, since I don't know the man personally and I can't know how he is or how his relationships went. As I said on the summary of the chapter, we only know the public side of Henry he wants us to know. About how he really is, we can only guess.</p><p>There is a difference about real life and fiction. Please, keep both properly separated.</p><p>I will not address this topic again, and I would like that the comment section stays clear about this topic as well.</p><p>I want to also let you know that I will keep writing the story, and I will keep writing RPF, since my life hasn't changed after all, and I need a way to cope, which writing this type of fics helps me to do so.</p><p>This being said, I hope you liked the chapter &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Dandelion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After a sudden morning call bringing sad news, Arlet has to make a trip back home, but this time, Henry will go with her, so she's not alone in her sorrow.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WARNINGS: this chapter is about death and grief. I know we're having a global situation in which you might have lost someone recently. If that's the case, consider if you're in the right state of mind before reading.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s early, really, really early, when a phone starts ringing. </p><p>From the sleepy mess of limbs we formed during the night and we are right now, I groan, complaining. It’s still dark, what the hell.</p><p>“Is that yours?” I ask, somehow, with a voice that doesn’t sound like mine at all, eyes still closed.</p><p>“Doesn’t sound like mine” Henry answers, being a miracle I understood him, because it gave the impression to be more like a nonsense mumbling than an actual sentence.</p><p>With a protesting grunt, I disentangle however I can, which is not much, because Henry’s still grappling me like a little monkey to his mama, and I try to reach my phone. Without even looking, I dismiss the call. Whoever the fuck is calling me at five in the morning can wait until I’m awake. I leave it in place and I go back to be the big spoon in that mess of arms and legs that we are, leaving a soft kiss on Henry’s forehead without even being aware of it. We fall back to sleep in seconds.</p><p>But it doesn’t last.</p><p>The phone starts ringing again, persistently, after some minutes. I repeat the same motion and dismiss it without even seeing, angrily going back to my cuddle with Henry and trying to fall asleep again. His arms hug me tighter, silently asking me to not go, which I don’t intend to do. I just want to have some peaceful time with him, is it that much to ask?</p><p>Sleep finds us once more.</p><p>And then, the two phones start ringing.</p><p>“Oh, for fuck’s sake…” I growl in anger, disentangling from him finally so he can go fetch his phone too. We can’t have a break.</p><p>“Sorry, I forgot to turn the alarm off” he says, still sleepy. “You should answer it, though. Seems like whoever it is, won’t stop until you do.”</p><p>He’s right.</p><p>I grab my phone as well to see who the hell has been calling so persistently. I frown when I see the name on the screen, and I hurry to pick it up.</p><p>“Mom?” I change to spanish, which makes Henry look at me in sudden surprise. “What is it? Do you know it’s five am here?”</p><p>“I know, sweetheart, but it couldn’t wait any longer.”</p><p>Then, she delivers the news. I listen in silence, looking through the window, not looking at him but aware that Henry doesn’t take his eyes off me. I don’t know if he’s aware that something is going on, or is just worried, but he, now fully awake, doesn’t miss any of my movements.</p><p>“I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’ll keep you updated” I say. “Yeah, I love you too.”</p><p>I hang up, drop the phone on the mattress and rub the fingers of both of my hands through my hair, taking a deep breath and trying to hold myself together.</p><p>I feel Henry’s soft palm on my back, caressing it gently. </p><p>“What’s wrong?” he asks, already knowing something is not ok. </p><p>Before I can answer, I take another deep breath, and when I’m sure I’m able to talk without having a breakdown, I look at him.</p><p>“My grandfather passed away last night” I say, in a lower voice than usual. “I need to go back for the funeral.”</p><p>Which is today, and I should start moving, but my legs don’t respond, keeping me frozen in place. I feel Henry’s arms wrapping around me, his lips carefully kissing the back of my head. I close my eyes for a second, because that feels really good right now.</p><p>“I’m sorry” he says. </p><p>I allow myself a couple of minutes of just being like this, being cuddled by him, in a dark, silent room seeing the sun slowly starting to raise through the window. Then, still between his arms, I grab my phone and I start looking for flights. It doesn’t take much time for Henry to seize it from my hands, making me look at him, frowning in confusion.</p><p>“Let me take care of that” he says, before I can even ask what he is doing. “Just answer this question, and do it honestly, please, because I’ll do whatever you decide here” with his free hand puts a strand of my hair behind my ear in a tender gesture. “Do you want me to go with you?”</p><p>I don’t need any time to think about it.</p><p>“Yes, please.”</p><p>I can’t even think of being away from him just now.</p><p>While Henry takes care of the flight, I start to pack a few things, whatever fits in a handbag and I can carry it with me in the plane. I change clothes, get my passport, and we go to Henry’s house so he can do the same. After leaving word to one of his friends to take care of Kal while he’s away, we finally go to the airport. It’s still early, and thankfully, the few people in there aren't really aware that it’s him, and if they do, we don’t notice, because nobody stops him. Airports are usually a forbidden zone for me to go with him because of the risks of sneaky pics and rumours forming, all for my own well being according to Henry, of course, but today none of us cares about that. </p><p>Henry has bought a couple of first class seats, which weren’t really needed, but it’s useless to argue with him about that, I know by now. He will do whatever he wants to spoil his friends, which I would usually complain about, because I don’t need any of that, but today I just can’t. I let him take care of me, because I don’t have the strength to fight it, and because I know he will do it anyway. He’s that way, caring of his loved ones, and I like him to be.</p><p>After a couple of hours of flight and half an hour cab ride, we arrive at the funeral home. It’s barely noon, so basically all my relatives have arrived already, as well as some friends of the family who want to show their support. I go hug my parents, especially my dad, since it was his father after all, and then I go with my grandma, which is still in shock. For a moment, I forget Henry is here too, but he knows that right now I must be with my family and doesn’t interrupt or gets offended. He manages to get out of the way, trying to not draw any attention to him, and when I go outside to have some fresh air, he finds his way to me, placing a hand on my lower back before passing his arm around my waist, and placing a soft kiss on the side of my head.</p><p>It’s really comforting having him here.</p><p>“I called Vesta and explained to her what’s going on. I told her to hold the fort for a couple of days” he says.</p><p>“Oh god, I totally forgot about her” I groan, my head being a real mess right now.</p><p>“It’s ok, I took care of it, don’t worry” he says. “You are holding up well.”</p><p>“Because I’m the only grandchild who is not crying?” I ask, half a tense smirk on my mouth. “I never cry at funerals.”</p><p>“And that doesn’t mean you’re not sad” he says, pulling me close to him. “Everyone reacts to death differently. But you’re holding up well, still. You’re a strong woman.”</p><p>I look up at his eyes, which are already looking at me, warmly, full of affection. He has no idea of how much it means to me that he’s here. I turn slightly so I can hug him, and he does the same with both of his arms this time, one of his hands burying his fingers in the roots of my hair.</p><p>“Thanks for coming with me” I mutter, getting lost in the warmth of his embrace.</p><p>“Anytime” he whispers, then places another kiss on my forehead, stroking my hair while he hugs me. “I’ll always have your back too.”</p><p>We remain like this for some more minutes, with him making me relax with those soft caresses while I enjoy being holded by his arms, when I see a familiar car parking near the door, and then Nerea and Nestor coming out of it, dressed for the occasion. At this time of the day, they probably just came out of work. Both climb the stairs to where we are at, and only then I release Henry to hug them both really tight. </p><p>“Hey love, your mom texted us. I’m really sorry, are you alright?” Nerea asks me when she hugs me. </p><p>“Yeah, well. More or less” I let her go to hug Nestor as well. “I’m sad, I’m tired, but still standing, you know me.”</p><p>“If you need a good laugh, you know how good of a clown I am. Just let me know” Nestor says, making me smile already.</p><p>Then, they both seem to realize I was not alone before they came, because they stare behind me, at Henry, as if they just saw a ghost. </p><p>
  <em> Oh, shit. </em>
</p><p>I know they’re discreet and are not going to mention anything from our talks to him, the content of those would make even the devil himself blush, but still, <em> holy shit </em>. This is worse than presenting a boyfriend to my parents, because neither Henry is my boyfriend, nor I tell my parents the things I’d like him to make me when we’re alone. I really, really hope Henry thinks this weird face I’m making is due to the current situation and not anything else. But these two know, and they better handle the situation well.</p><p>“Oh, Henry, these are my friends, those two I won’t ever stop talking about” I make the presentation. “Nestor doesn’t speak english, but Nerea defends herself quite well.”</p><p>“Oh, cool, I speak a bit of spanish too, we’ll make it work” Henry says, after shaking the hands of both of them. “She really does talk a lot about you two, it’s like I already know you.”</p><p>“Oh god, everything good, I hope” Nerea says, trying to keep her nerves away. </p><p>“Calm down, babe, I didn’t tell him about that night we both shared more than a bottle of tequila” I joke, raising an eyebrow at her, to which she elbows me with a ‘ I’m so done with you’ face.</p><p>“She didn’t, but now I certainly want to know” he follows the joke. When he smiles, Nerea seems to relax, and so does Nestor, even though he doesn’t understand half of what he’s saying.</p><p>“Thanks for keeping an eye on her while she’s in London” Nerea says. “She’s the queen of bad decisions.”</p><p>“I’ve decided I’m not liking you today.”</p><p>“See what I was saying?”</p><p>That makes both Henry and me laugh. It feels good to do it in a day like this, and Nerea is the queen of making that happen. </p><p>“As far as I know, she’s been making good decisions” he says. “Except for hanging out with me, for some reason. She’s going to get bad habits from that.”</p><p>“Oh, boy, more like the opposite. She already has those, don’t trust that angel face she has. If you’re not careful, it’s you who’s gonna get bad habits.”</p><p>“I’m learning so much today” Henry says, raising an eyebrow while looking at me, half a smirk coming to his lips, clearly amused.</p><p>“I’m <em> so </em> going to kill you right now” I say to Nerea.</p><p>“What are friends for if not to embarrass you publicly?” she asks, then places a smooch on my cheek. “We’re going to check on your parents, ok? We’ll be right back.”</p><p>She grabs Nestor’s arm and disappears inside. I wonder if my parents are actually the reason to leave, or if she also used that excuse to leave me alone with Henry for a little longer. Whatever it is, I’ll thank her later.</p><p>“So” Henry looks at me, both of his eyebrows raised. “The queen of bad decisions?”</p><p>I roll my eyes and smile, rubbing my forehead with the tip of my fingers.</p><p>“There are a lot of stories I could tell you” I say, walking close to him again. He takes that as a chance to pass an arm over my shoulders and hug me again.</p><p>“Happy stories?”</p><p>“Some of them” I say. “There are also sad ones.”</p><p>I place both of my arms around his waist, hugging him too. It feels so good doing so, probably because he’s so big his arms feel like protective wings that shield me from the rest of the world.</p><p>“What if we leave the sad ones for another day and you tell me a happy one now?” he asks, his lips resting on my forehead.</p><p>“Will you ever want me to tell you a sad story?” I say, smiling in disbelief.</p><p>“I want to know all of them” he says, his voice being serious. “But I’ll settle for only a happy one for today.”</p><p>I look up to meet his eyes to check that, in fact, he’s being serious about it. I’m pretty sure he has way more interesting stories than I do. Why would someone like him be interested in mine? Still, I sigh, thinking about a happy story to tell him now, as I rest my head on his shoulder.</p><p>“So… When I was around fifteen, I had a crush on this guy that really didn’t pay me any attention in public” I start, having picked one already. “One afternoon, we ended up alone, so we decided to explore some abandoned area near the park all of us used to meet at. Back then I was <em> terrible </em> at kissing. So terrible, you have no idea” I hear him snort a laugh, but he remains silent, waiting for me to continue. “I had only kissed one guy before, and he was even worse, I swear, so I couldn’t learn much from that.”</p><p>Henry starts to laugh, which makes me giggle too.</p><p>“And there we were, my crush and I, alone in that place, it was like an abandoned concrete ground surrounded by all kinds of plants. The sun was already set, there was almost no light there, but we still could distinguish each other. I thought, as innocent as I was back then, that we were just walking around, exploring.”</p><p>“And you weren’t” Henry guesses, his lips tickling the top of my head as he speaks.</p><p>“Nope, we weren’t” I keep telling. “He kissed me, so I put in practice the few things I knew back then. Come on, stop laughing!” I protest, as I hear him starting again, feeling his body shake as he laughs, trying myself to not do it as well. “As you can guess, it went terribly, so the guy started to teach me how to kiss properly. And that day I learned, and I also kissed my crush. Two birds with one stone.”</p><p>“Oh, look at that. It’s not that terrible” he says. “Where’s the bad decision there?”</p><p>“The guy was the bad decision” I explain. “He was a terrible person. We never really dated, so that’s good, but back then it made me feel so… bad. And somehow, that evening with him teaching me how to kiss, is a memory that I hold dear” I sigh, not sure about why thinking about those memories makes me feel weird while Henry is around. “I’ve never made good decisions when it comes to men” I keep saying, this time lowering my voice. “I believe the only good ones I’ve ever made have been to push away the few good men I’ve met, so I don’t ruin them by being with me.”</p><p>Henry remains in silence for a while, which makes me look at him, wondering what he might be thinking about. He’s staring at me, his blue eyes with a rare and unique shine on them. His hand passes from the back of my head to my face, gently caressing my cheek with his thumb and making me close my eyes, giving into the touch. I remember that day during this summer, when Kal hurt me when we were playing and Henry shielded me all the way home, as if he was protecting a dandelion from the wind. Today, I feel again like a dandelion, desperately asking for his shelter, so the wind doesn’t blow me away.</p><p>“There is no way you could ruin anyone, Let” he mutters, his lips on my temple and his arms hugging me tight. “You are the most authentic person I’ve ever met, and I know you well enough to tell that, no matter how deeply people harmed you in the past, you would never do the same to others.”</p><p>I feel the tears gathering in my eyes, and it takes all my effort to hold them back, because I don’t want to cry, not right now. If I do, it will be impossible for me to stop. I obviously know it’s socially acceptable to cry at funerals, but there is that part of me, that stubborn part focused on shielding myself from the rest of the world, that doesn’t allow me to show any weakness. It takes me a bit of time, and hugging Henry even tighter, but I manage to not shed a single tear. I remain, somehow, intact. Unbroken.</p><p>I understand there, in that moment, that I have no escape. That I’m deeply in love with him.</p><p>
  <em> Please, don’t blow me away. </em>
</p><p>After the burial, between all the cousins we gathered some takeaway food for dinner, enough for everyone, and we headed to my grandparents’, now my grandma’s, house. Henry and I will be staying there tonight so my grandma isn’t left alone, since it’s a big house with a lot of bedrooms, a big yard, and if it was already too big for two persons, it is obviously too big for only one. And it’s old, more or less. Yes, between my dad and my uncles, some updates have been made throughout the years, like a modern kitchen, the TVs, internet connection, all of those things my grandparent wouldn’t think about, including the heating. </p><p>Some years ago, one of my uncles installed a bunch of electric heaters that all of us thought would be better for a house that big. Turns out, my grandpa didn’t really understand how they work, and, as stubborn as he was, he kept using the old fireplace and never touched those. Since we think it would be better for my grandmother to not have to use the fireplace everytime, now there is a small group of people, formed by said uncle, my dad, my two male cousins, Nestor and Henry, gathered around one of the heaters, trying to understand how they work so they can schedule its working times, since my uncle doesn’t remember how to set them. It’s kind of a funny thing to see, because neither my uncle, my dad or Nestor speak english, and Henry doesn’t speak that much spanish, but has insisted on helping them and putting himself to use, so there they are. My two cousins have a more or less decent level of english, so at least they can translate when it’s needed. They also want an excuse to be near Henry, because they obviously know who he is, and are still shocked that I came to the funeral with the freaking Superman, as the rest of my family is as well.</p><p>Nerea is helping my female cousins to do the dishes and store all the food that we didn’t eat, my mother is talking with my aunts in the kitchen, and I keep company to my grandma, who is still sitting on the dining room table. From where we are we can see both, the kitchen and the living room, so we’re there, talking while watching how the guys try to take care of the heating in the living room.</p><p>“You did a long journey today didn’t you? Where were you living in again?” my grandma asks, not really remembering the big details.</p><p>“In London, <em> yaya </em>, I’m living in London now” I answer, kind and patient.</p><p>“Uh, that’s really far away” she says. I guess that for her, who has never left the country, it is. “And your boyfriend came with you this far? He must love you very much.”</p><p>My cheeks turn red with that comment, and I avert the gaze when I see Henry looking briefly at our direction.</p><p>“He’s not my boyfriend, <em> yaya </em>” I say, lowering my voice for some reason, because even when we’re talking in spanish, I can’t be sure if he understands or not. “We’re only friends, and we work together sometimes.”</p><p>My grandma looks at me, like studying me behind those big glasses. Then, she looks at the boys, I guess probably at Henry, who is now frowning, sleeves of his shirt rolled up, focused on finding the control that sets the temperature, and finally, back at me again.</p><p>“<em> Hija </em> , listen to me” she says. “I might not know about a lot of things, but I spent my whole life with your grandfather, since I was fifteen. Through the good and the bad moments, we were together, all the time. Do you think I don’t recognise that kind of love when I see it?” she manages to say all that without bursting into tears, which is a miracle today. “You love him, <em> nena </em>, I see it in your face whenever you look at him.”</p><p>She leaves me speechless for a moment, still blushed. It took me half a year of denial and trying to keep myself away to figure that out, and she only needed half a day with us.</p><p>“That doesn’t matter <em> yaya </em>” I say, acknowledging that it’s useless to hide my feelings. “He… He doesn’t love me that way, he doesn’t want a girlfriend, and we’re good as we are right now.”</p><p>It’s impossible for him to love me the same way I do.</p><p>My grandma looks at the boys again. Henry is looking closely to one of my cousins, who is trying to translate whatever my uncle is trying to tell him. It is, certainly, a scene that I didn’t expect to see in all my lifespan, and yet, it’s something beautiful to watch.</p><p>“<em> Hija </em>, you know that I love you dearly” she says, looking back to me, “but you’re a dumb woman if you really think that man over there doesn’t love you.”</p><p>“<em> Abuela! </em>” I whisper, not sure if I’m more shocked because of what she just said or because she just called me dumb.</p><p>“Do you think he’d be there otherwise, dealing with your stupid uncle?” she asks. “I know he’s my son, but he’s stupid. Does he really think I’m going to learn how all those buttons work when not even he knows?”</p><p>“You don’t need to learn it <em> yaya </em>, I’m sure my dad will come to turn it off when summer is close…”</p><p>“You’re not listening to me, Arlet, I’m telling you to not waste time” she interrupts me. “I spent a whole life with your grandpa, and now that he’s not here, even that much time feels short to me. Each day you’re not with him, it won’t come back at the end, and you’ll feel sorry to not have spent that time with him as well.”</p><p>We hear victory noises and when we look at the guys, they’re celebrating that they made it work finally. Henry’s eyes meet mine, and he smiles, fondly. I smile back at him too, thanking him silently. He nods, briefly, and I know he understands.</p><p>“<em> Nena </em>, you better start to give me great-grandchildren soon” my grandma says, well aware of our silent exchange, for what it seems. “Family is a treasure. He looks like the kind of man who knows that.”</p><p>I blush, but I don’t say anything. At this point, I know it’s useless to argue with her. But I wonder, since she only knows him from today and they haven’t really talked, how she knows that Henry is, indeed, a family man. I still remember what he told me when we met, that he wanted to start a family someday. But I also remember he said he stopped trying. He was about to marry someone once, and she left. I understand why he stopped, as I’ve felt a similar pain on my own skin. That experience would make anyone stop trying.</p><p>But perhaps you only have to stop trying, to finally find what you were looking for all the time.</p><p>Maybe my grandma is right, and I shouldn’t waste more time.</p><p>The doorbell rings, surprising all of us, since, even when it’s not late in the night, it’s certainly not time for visits. One of my cousins goes to open the door. I get out of the chair to start picking up the dirty tablecloth from the dinner, seeing from the corner of my eye how Henry approaches. But before he gets to where I am, I lift my head and look at the kitchen, where I hear my cousin arriving with the visit. The first thing I see is Nerea's eyes wide open, looking at me with a ‘oh no’ expression. And then, when my cousin enters the kitchen, I see <em> him </em> entering behind her.</p><p>The man is big, not as big as Henry, but close enough, has a bushy beard and his short mane tied in a bun behind his head. He’s dressing as usual in him, with jeans, stylish t-shirts and an expensive coat, and is acting as if the last year and a half didn’t happen.</p><p>“Hello, good night, my condolences to you all” the new visitor says.</p><p>For a few seconds, I’m frozen in terror, afraid that all the efforts I made to put all my pieces back together were in vain, as I’m in risk of breaking again only by seeing him.</p><p>When I can react, I drop the tablecloth over the table and I use the door behind me to leave.</p><p>
  <em> What the hell is he doing here? </em>
</p><p>I take my coat, find my way to the garden and I run to hide in the only place I know nobody will look for me. Behind the area where the rooms are located -it’s a single story house- there is a staircase that leads to the roof, to a small terrace that hasn't been used in ages, a place where no one comes, even less on a cold night of October. There, alone, I try to manage the panic attack that is threatening to emerge. I take deep breaths, grabbing the balustrade with both of my hands, seeing how my breath creates a small condensation cloud each time, and I try to hold myself together, as I’ve been doing since I finally assumed he left.</p><p>“Arlet?” I hear behind me.</p><p>I really don’t have much time to react. There’s a sound of footsteps and then I feel a couple of hands taking me and gently making me turn. I see Henry, who must have followed me all the way here. Under the only light of the lampposts of the street, I can see that he clearly looks concerned, and I can’t blame him, after witnessing the way I stormed out. One of his hands puts some strands of my hair behind my ear, but his fingers keep caressing me, going all the way through the line of my jaw until they arrive to my chin, lifting my face a bit more, so he can look me in the eye.</p><p>Somehow, his sole presence has a calming effect on me.</p><p>“Hey” he says with a low voice, trying to get a reaction from me, his eyes never leaving mine. “It’s ok, I’m here with you.”</p><p>And that’s all I need.</p><p>I hug him tight, and his arms do the same, embracing me, shielding me from the world for the second time today. Henry doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t have to. Only by holding me in his arms, he’s doing more than enough. I close my eyes, letting myself surrender to his warmth, getting lost in his now so familiar scent of chamomile tea and coriander, with the weight of his hands pressing against me, comforting, bringing the calm back to me. </p><p>“Do you feel better?” he asks after several minutes of being like this. I pull myself away a bit and nod.</p><p>“I… I don’t feel quite myself yet, but… I’ll live” I say. “But I can’t go back there. Not yet. Not with him there.”</p><p>I separate from Henry completely and cross my arms over my chest, because now it feels cold, but I’m also feeling a bit dizzy, my legs are shaking a little and I want to sit, so I make myself comfortable on the floor, my back leaning against the brick wall that forms the balustrade. Henry doesn’t hesitate to do the same and sits next to me, passing an arm over my shoulders, trying to protect me from the cold.</p><p>“We don’t have to” he says. “I’ll stay here with you until you’re ready.”</p><p>“You don’t have to” I reply. “You’re gonna get cold in here.”</p><p>“And so are you. But we’ll do good if we stay together.”</p><p>I don’t know if he’s referring to the cold or the situation itself. Whatever it is, he’s right in both cases.</p><p>“You’re doing a lot for me today, Hen” I say, resting my head on his shoulder. “I can’t thank you enough.”</p><p>“You don’t need to thank me” he says. “And definitely not after what you did for me yesterday.”</p><p>“But still…”</p><p>“Leave it be, Arlet” he interrupts me in a kind tone. “When people care about each other, they are there to help in whatever way they can. You did it for me, I do it for you. I’d do it again tomorrow, as you would too. There’s no need to keep score.”</p><p>I remain in silence, letting that sink in. Then, I nod, searching for the hand that he has now over my shoulders, and he completes my motion entangling his fingers with mine.</p><p>“Let” he mutters my name after some minutes of silence.</p><p>“Mmh?”</p><p>“You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to, I don’t want to force such a delicate topic on you but...” he starts, then makes a brief pause and sighs before continuing. “But I’d like you to tell me what just happened. I believe I have a vague idea but…”</p><p>“Yeah” I interrupt him. “It’s ok, Hen, it’s not a secret. And you deserve to know it. I just… I never felt like it was something I should trouble you with.”</p><p>“Well, I told you this morning” he says. “I want to know all of your stories. Even the sad ones.”</p><p>Surprisingly, that gets a smile from me. A melancholic one, but a smile after all.</p><p>“Do you remember when I told you about my last one?” I ask him. “When you asked me why I still was single.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Well, that’s Philip” I sigh, thinking about how to start telling the whole story. “He is a photographer, a very talented one. That’s what awoke my interest in him when we met. He came once to a party in my old gallery, and that’s how everything started.”</p><p>I still remember seeing him for the first time, how word after word I knew that I was falling for him. How charming his smile was, how tempting his eyes were. And how foolish I was to fall for all of that.</p><p>“I… Well, Nerea has always told me that I give my heart too easily, and that one day, that would give me a big trouble. I didn’t listen to her, but she was right” I keep telling, my eyes wandering by the dark sky, looking at the few stars that we can see. “I opened to him like I never opened to anyone before. Philip was the first guy that really made me think about having a future together. We dated for like a year, even kind of lived together for a while. He was the first one I trusted that much, that I <em> trusted </em> that he would stay... For me, he was <em> the one </em>. And then, one day he just… left.”</p><p>I take a deep breath after that part. Every memory about that day feels like a needle pricking my heart, but I have learned to tolerate that pain quite decently by now, even when it still stings.</p><p>“Why?” Henry asks, when the pause it’s getting too long.</p><p>To which I shrug.</p><p>“I don’t know. We went to sleep one night, and the next morning he was gone, all of his things were gone. No note, no texts, no phone calls” I answer. “And after trying to contact him by all the ways I knew and having no response, one day, not too long after that, I saw he had updated his instagram account. He had a new girlfriend, a new adventure in a new place, away from here, and he never looked back. And then I… broke” I try that my voice doesn’t tremble when I say that, because the memory of those terrible days comes to me like a huge wave that could swallow me whole again if I’m not careful enough. “I broke in so many pieces, so, so many, it took me a lot to put all of them back. The pain lasted long with me. It took me a lot to start to heal. And seeing him today here… I…”</p><p>“Hey, come here” Henry interrupts me when he can’t bear anymore hearing my voice like that, hugging me tight against him with both of his arms. “You are stronger than you think you are, do you hear me?” he says, a hint of rage in his voice. “You managed to heal from that, you managed to go back to life, to dance with your friends, to meet new people, to laugh, to be yourself again. And sure, now it hurts again, it’s a wound freshly healed, still bruised, but with time, the pain won’t be there anymore. I <em> promise </em> to you.”</p><p>There’s something in the way he says it that makes me lift my head, looking for his eyes. Blended with the blue, there’s frustration in them, and also anger, but not against me. And there’s also affection, a hint of pain, and, especially, comprehension. Because he knows what that is. He’s lived that too.</p><p>If there’s anyone who can really understand how I feel right now, that’s Henry.</p><p>“If <em> she </em> did to you half of the pain he did to me, she never deserved you.”</p><p>I don’t really know why I say that, but I really mean it. It seems to catch Henry off guard, because his expression softens, surprised as he is. Henry deserves someone who is willing to give him as much as he gives to the one he loves, who is as committed to him as he would be to her, and who can see him truly as he is. I place a hand on his chest, over all of his clothes, but where his heart, his kind and beautiful heart is. He rests his forehead on mine, both of us closing our eyes while his thumb leaves gentle strokes on my cheek. There’s no need to say anything, we both know. We understand each other better than anyone does.</p><p>I would kiss him right now.</p><p>But I can’t give him this mess of fears and insecurities that is my heart right now. He is worthy of more.</p><p>So we remain like this for some minutes, giving into the soft caresses of his hand and the warmth of his embrace. I can’t get rid of the feeling that perhaps I’m being selfish wanting him to be around all the time, a time in which he could be meeting someone else, someone who is not as damaged as I am. Someone who makes him want to go back to relationships again and gives him the family he wants, because Henry doesn’t deserve any less.</p><p>“Oh, I just remembered something” he mutters, half breaking the hug we’re in to search something in the inside pocket of his coat. I look at him, my curiosity definitely peaked, and then, he pulls out a small polaroid picture. A very familiar picture. “I found it this morning, it was inside the pages of my passport. I totally forgot… Hey! Why are you crying?”</p><p>I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I didn’t expect him to still have the picture, or perhaps because I have reached my limit today and my walls are breaking now, but I’m crying. I cry because of the loss, because of Philip, because of how much I love Henry and how I’ll never be able to give him what he deserves, because I’m a mess, and I’m not worthy of him loving me back.</p><p>Henry comforts me in his arms, muttering soft words in my ear, telling me that it’s ok, letting me cry as much as I need. I feel better after that, like I just released all the pressure and stress I was carrying with me for who knows how long. I don’t know how much time it takes for me to stop, but I finally manage to. Henry’s thumb cleans the tears out of my face with a gentle gesture, as delicate as he knows how to be. His lips leave gentle kisses on top of my head, his arms being as protective as always. But the wind is blowing strongly, and I’m not sure if all his efforts will be enough to keep this dandelion intact.</p><p>We hear some steps coming up here. When we turn our heads to see who is coming, we see Nerea, who freezes when she sees us both here, not sure whether she should be here or not.</p><p>“Sorry er… Am I interrupting something?” she asks.</p><p>“No” I say, separating myself from Henry a bit, his arms releasing me from his embrace. She looks at him, hesitant. “It’s ok babe, he knows already” I say, guessing it has something to do with Philip.</p><p>She sighs, then kneels next to me.</p><p>“I managed to kick him out finally” she says. “It took me a lot to do it though, you know how he is, trying to charm everyone with words, but he has left already” she promises.</p><p>“But what was he doing here?” I ask, still not understanding that part.</p><p>“Well… Your mom texted him” she says. I open my eyes widely, astonished. My mom? What? “Yeah, I know. I talked to her. Turns out, when she started to text everyone to let us know about the funeral… She texted him too by accident.”</p><p>“Oh, and of course he had to come. Fucking fantastic” I say, getting angry out of all the frustration. Henry presses his hand over my arm gently when he notices the abrupt mood change. “He hasn’t cared about me for a fucking year and a half, and then he suddenly has to come to the funeral.”</p><p>“He said he took the first flight he could to attend” Nerea says. “But I believe he’s going to stay in the country for a while anyway. You know I can’t resist gossiping around and I googled up a bit… Well. I found out he has a contract with a gallery from the city. You can guess which one.”</p><p>“Of course” I groan. It has to be my old workplace, for sure. </p><p>Next to me, Henry frowns.</p><p>“Is it just me or does this sound like he’s looking for her?”</p><p>“Oh, it’s not just you, trust me. He <em> is </em> looking for Arlet” Nerea says. “If he’s going to spend some time here, he definitely wants someone to have fun with in the meantime. And I’m pretty sure he believes you’re the easiest target right now, love.”</p><p>“He can go fuck himself with his camera, for what I concern” I say. “I’m so glad I’m not working there anymore.”</p><p>“Anyway Let, I told him to fuck off and leave. You can come back down if you want. You’re gonna freeze up here.”</p><p>Yeah, she’s right. We decide to move back inside after almost an hour out in the cold. Effectively, Philip is gone. Some of my cousins have left as well, and my parents are about to. I have a brief talk with my mom about what just happened, in which she basically tells me how sorry she is, and I tell her that it’s ok, that mistakes can happen. This mistake hurt a lot, but there’s nothing to do about it now, and since I’ll leave soon again, holding resentment has no sense. </p><p>Eventually, my grandma goes to sleep, everyone else leaves, including Nerea and Nestor, who promise to visit tomorrow after work, and Henry and I end up alone in this silent, big house that holds so many memories of my childhood. I guide him to the bedroom he’ll be staying at, and after wishing him a good night, I head to mine. I change to my comfortable clothes, the same ones I was wearing last night. They still carry his scent. Memories of last night rush into my mind, how he came to me looking for comfort, how I cuddled him, caressing his hair, making him relax, how his arms wrapped tightly around me instinctively while he was asleep.</p><p>Would it be too selfish if I asked for the same tonight?</p><p>Just one more night.</p><p>I knock on his door, partially opening when I hear his response. Henry has changed to a tank top and pajama pants, a look on him I’m clearly not used to, and is preparing to go to bed. I tend to forget how fit his body usually is, and seeing now the muscles of his arms, of his back, his neck, distracts me for a few seconds.</p><p>“Is there anything wrong, Arlet?” he asks, his soft voice bringing me back to earth.</p><p>“No, I just…” I shake my head, trying to focus again. “Can I… stay with you tonight?”</p><p>His lips draw a kind, gentle smile that also shows on his eyes.</p><p>“I thought you’d never ask. Come here” he then offers me his hand, inviting me.</p><p>I come inside and close the door behind me, taking his hand and letting him pull me in a brief, tight hug, from which he lets me go so I can get into bed, joining me a few seconds later, when I’ve made myself comfortable. I go find refuge between his arms as soon as he opens them for me. If I could, I’d live always there, in that spot between his neck and his shoulder, with his fingers gently caressing my hair.</p><p>“Hen?” I mutter, warm and comfortable, not wanting to move.</p><p>“Mmh?” I hear his voice closer than I was expecting, his mouth close to my ear.</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>I feel his lips smiling against my hair.</p><p>“Anytime.”</p><p>His voice is low, warm, and makes me melt in place. After this long and exhausting day, sleep comes to me easy, wrapped as I am between his arms. It’s a nice place to be, and I wouldn’t be anywhere else tonight.</p><p>But it’s not as a comforting night as I was expecting.</p><p>Even there, between Henry’s arms, nightmares find their way to me. Anxiety, humiliation and the pain of a broken heart are the main protagonists, with Philip and Henry as guest stars as well. When I wake up, light is coming through the window, but I can tell it’s still early. Next to me, Henry sleeps peacefully, his arms still around me, and his chest slowly going up and down as he breathes. I look at his face, so serene, with no worries at all. He has this little frown and his lips slightly open, like waiting for a kiss that never comes. And it won’t come today.</p><p>As carefully and silently as I can, I disentangle myself from his arms and leave the room, trying to not wake him up. He’s had the same crazy days than I’ve had, and he’s been in need of a good rest for days. If he can keep sleeping, I will let him. As for me, I need a shower and a coffee.</p><p>After having some breakfast with my grandma and making sure she eats as well, I go outside to feed the chickens from the yard, something that my grandpa used to do, and now someone needs to take care of until my grandma feels better. Now, at the light of day, I’m still thinking about what happened last night, about how Philip appeared, how his mere presence was enough to shake my walls to their foundations, how I am so scared that those walls collapse, leaving me with the possibility of suffering again. I also think about my feelings for Henry, about what to do about it. I know he wouldn’t do something like that to me, but I thought the same about Philip, and it happened. After all the time it took me to heal, I can’t take that risk. </p><p>And besides, he deserves someone who isn’t the mess that I am.</p><p>It’s in the middle of these thoughts when he finally finds me, an hour later after I woke up, while I’m spreading some corn to the chickens and seeing how they come and start to peck around to eat their food. I greet him with a sad smile, hands in the pocket of my coat, letting him come to me. </p><p>“Hey” Henry says when he finally arrives. “You didn’t wake me up.”</p><p>He passes an arm over my shoulders, something we’ve done hundreds of times by now, but this morning that touch feels overwhelming, and I move away from it.</p><p>“You looked like you needed a rest” I say, trying to pretend that movement was natural, walking some steps to place the corn sack back in its place. “I thought it would be the best to let you sleep in for once.”</p><p>“You didn’t have to” he says. “But thanks, I guess.”</p><p>When I walk back and look at him again, he’s frowning in slight concern, as if he’s wondering if I’m telling him all the truth. </p><p>“Have you eaten something yet?” I ask him, changing the subject.</p><p>“No, eh… I didn’t want to disturb your grandma” he says, putting his hands inside his pockets. “I think she doesn’t like me.”</p><p>To which I can’t help but start laughing, making him look at me with a confused expression, but somehow more relaxed after seeing me laugh.</p><p>“What? What did I say?” he asks.</p><p>“Well…” I take a deep breath after I manage to stop. “She never likes anyone, to be honest” I explain. “But she likes you.”</p><p>He raises his eyebrows in surprise. </p><p>“She does?”</p><p>I nod, remembering the talk we had yesterday. It’s sad that, after all, she was wrong, and we’re not meant to be. But it was a good talk, and made me happy for a brief moment, until everything began to crumble.</p><p>“Come on, I’ll prepare you some breakfast” I say, heading back to the house. </p><p>After Henry has eaten something, we take my grandpa’s car and head to the village, this time, with him on the copilot seat, since he’s the visitor this time. We go to a bakery I used to go to when I still lived at my parents’, the owner of which is a childhood friend of mine, taking care now of the family business. He’s happy to see me, and even more when we take a lot of pastries and baked goods with us. My grandma likes sweets so much, and family is coming again today, so we better have enough for everyone. It’s funny to see Henry carrying most of it, stubborn as he is, saying he doesn’t need any help. </p><p>After that, we go to my grandpa’s favorite restaurant and order some food to pick up at lunch time. I notice how Henry looks at everything with curious eyes, especially when I’m stopped while we walk in the street by someone who knows me, usually old people, asking me how I am and why I’m back here, because everybody knew I was long gone from here. When we walk into one of my teachers from primary school, I try that he doesn’t see that I’m blushing while trying to explain to her that no, that Henry is not my boyfriend. Is not the only time I have to answer that question, and each time I blush the same way.</p><p>“Everybody is so familiar here” he says, when we’re finally driving back to the house.</p><p>“It’s a small town, everybody knows each other” I explain, giving him half a smile. “Wasn’t it like that in Jersey?”</p><p>“Not really” he says. “But it’s a nice place too.”</p><p>“I’m sure it is. You came from there.”</p><p>I can’t look at him right now, my eyes fixed on the road, but I can guess he’s smiling at me.</p><p>Part of the family is there when we arrive. Henry helps me with the sweets and everybody starts eating and talking, trying to push the sadness away. At some point, Henry asks me to go somewhere quiet, so we can talk. When he does, he places his hand on the lower part of my back, a very familiar gesture to me, but again, as this morning, I move away from it. I know Henry realizes about it, he probably realized this morning as well, he’s not dumb, but again, doesn’t say anything on our way to the corridor that leads to the bedrooms. We stop there, since we’re alone.</p><p>“I’m sorry about that, Hen” knowing that I need to say something, because otherwise he’ll think that something is wrong, as he did two days ago in the studio. “I…” I let go a sigh, trying to find the words. “I need a bit of space right now.”</p><p>He nods, understanding, a sad smile on his face.</p><p>“Yeah, I guessed so” he says. “That’s why I’m leaving in some minutes. My flight leaves in an hour and a half.”</p><p>I open my eyes widely. His what?</p><p>“Why didn’t you tell me? Did I do…?” I start asking, but he doesn’t let me finish.</p><p>“No, no” he does a motion like he’s going to take my hands, but stops himself before doing so and puts them back in his pockets. “You didn’t do anything. I thought that it would be the best for you to spend some time with your family, and only your family” he looks at me in the eye. “Take some days off, come back when you’re ready. I will try to help Vesta and the new one with the gallery the best I can for a few days, until I have to go back to work.”</p><p>I clearly don’t deserve him.</p><p>I walk the few steps that separate us and I hug him, the last hug in who knows how long. His arms wrap me in his warm embrace one more, holding me tight as he leaves a soft kiss on my temple. </p><p>“I’ll miss you” I say, still not letting him go.</p><p>“I’ll miss you too” he says back.</p><p>When we finally separate, I pull out the polaroid that I’ve been keeping in the pocket of my jeans since yesterday, a picture that we both thought long lost, and I hand it to him.</p><p>“Keep it for me” I say. </p><p>There’s no need to say why. We both know. He nods, smiling, taking the picture, aware of the silent promise I just made to him. That I will be back.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I tend to fill the chapters with my own memories and experiences because that way it feels more real. This chapter isn't different. I've put in it memories of a -more or less- recent funeral. It was right before the pandemic started and we managed to give our goodbyes, and to be together as a family. I wished that I could have had a Henry with me at that time to support me as I wrote him to do with Arlet.</p><p>This chapter has been both, special to write, and difficult at the same time. I love writing about happy things, about these two dorks being happy together and having intimate moments from which they're not quite aware of (I loved writing the beginning of the chapter) but when it comes to the sad parts, I always wonder if I'm making it too gloomy, too dark, so I hope I managed to find the right balance.</p><p>It also turned out longer than usual, but I wanted to include all those scenes before the next chapter, and there weren't enough moments to fill two whole chapters either. You will understand why I couldn't include them in the next one when it comes out ;)</p><p>For those wondering, the meaning of the spanish words used in the conversation with grandma is:<br/>Yaya/Abuela: grandmother. Abuela is the oficial word for it, but some people use yaya in an affectionate way<br/>Hija: daughter. In this case it's obviously not literal. It's a thing here.<br/>Nena: I think the equivalent in english would be babydoll or something similar.</p><p>If anyone is interested in how Philip looks physically, you can google "Can Yaman Erkenci Kus" :) Don't ask me why I turned him into an asshole, I don't know.</p><p>To those of you who are having a bad time right now, I'm sending you all my love. </p><p>Thank you all for reading &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Iris</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sometimes, to understand things better, it's good to have a change of perspective.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is entirely narrated from Henry's point of view. Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> ...And I’d give up forever to touch you </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘Cause I know that you feel me somehow </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And I don’t want to go home right now… </em>
</p><p>The first verse of the song fills the car as I’m driving back home, precisely. But, as the song says, I don’t want to go home either. The gallery these days has been the place where I felt closer to Arlet, where I could almost see her walking around, with the sound of her heels echoing all around. I miss her terribly, but I know she needs to be with her people now. And the picture that I look at every night and is now safe in my wallet says that she will come back here, back to me, when she’s ready again.</p><p>On the back seat, Kal looks at me with his piercing eyes, that face he makes when he’s about to bark.</p><p>“Yeah, I know bud. We’re almost there” I say to him. </p><p>I have been bringing Kal to the gallery with me everyday so he doesn’t spend all day all alone, and he’s tired of not being able to run and play as much as he uses to, so he’s eager to get home and run wild all over the yard, fetch his toys, make me join him in the madness. I can’t blame him, to be honest. He’s always been very active, as I am myself. Maybe playing with him will distract me.</p><p>
  <em> ...I just don’t wanna miss you tonight... </em>
</p><p>Because my head is a huge mess and I know what I need to do about it.</p><p>
  <em> ...And I don't want the world to see me </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 'Cause I don't think that they'd understand </em>
</p><p>
  <em> When everything's made to be broken </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I just want you to know who I am... </em>
</p><p>I park the car inside, aware that some paparazzi might be waiting to catch me doing something not even remotely interesting. The music stops as I pull out the keys, and I let Kal out so he can stretch and do whatever he wants. It doesn’t take him long to bring me one of his toys, so I give him the time he deserves. I make him burn as much energy as I can, and when he finally surrenders and goes to lay down on his bed, I go to prepare some dinner, with the song from the car still stuck in my head.</p><p>But now, even when I’m at home, I see Arlet everywhere. And it feels empty without her.</p><p>It’s that day when rain caught us plenty when we were trying to have a hiking day, and she’s wearing the clothes I prepared for her, the same ones I left after that night, with the silly hope of finally see what I was denied that day, which was her, walking around the house while wearing some of my clothes because she’d be so comfortable with me that she wouldn’t mind that. It took me months, and a totally different situation, but the wait was more than worth it, because when I finally saw her, I knew.</p><p>I knew that I wanted to see her like that every sunday morning, after sleeping in and lingering in bed for hours, while having a lazy breakfast and planning what to do for the rest of the day.</p><p>I knew that I was in love with her.</p><p>
  <em> ...you’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be… </em>
</p><p>And it was that what made me look for her at my lowest hours. Because, yes, we all have those. Arlet has always known what to say or what to do in order to take a smile again from me, either it’s with some words and gestures of support, or trying to befriend a wild squirrel out of nowhere in the middle of the park. She’s spontaneous, independent, joyful, wild and graceful at the same time. She’s like a storm, not like the ones you run from but the ones you chase, and also, sometimes, she’s as fragile as a dandelion.</p><p>If I need her, she’s not only in the silent and peaceful forest with me, she’s also the whole forest. As long as I have her near me, I’ll be alright.</p><p>
  <em> ...and I don’t want to go home right now... </em>
</p><p>That’s what made me go to her place that night. That, and the thought of being losing her, somehow, because she walked away from me that morning in the studio.</p><p>I knew she wouldn’t let me outside, but I didn’t expect her to say yes either. It was a weird mix of that certainty and fear of being rejected at the same time. And when I had her again between my arms, everything else ceased to matter. I was in the forest again, I had the forest with me.</p><p>“Better now?” she asked in a soft whisper near my ear, her arms still comforting me in the warmth of that hug.</p><p>“Yes. I’ve been wanting to do this all day” I said, with my face still buried in her neck, allowing myself to sink in her perfume, that magnificent scent that reminds me of orange blossom and I always associate with her.</p><p>
  <em> ...I just don’t wanna miss you tonight… </em>
</p><p>Seeing her bedroom was like opening a new door to discover new things about her I didn’t know yet. Almost everything there were memories she brought with her when she moved. The wall with the pictures really caught my attention. Her family and friends are things she talks about a lot, and it shows how precious are to her. And when I saw I was also there, in that display of beautiful memories, I couldn’t help a fond smile.</p><p>That night I was nervous, as if it was one of my very first dates and I’d never slept with a woman before. I was scared of being too close, but I didn’t want to be far from her either. Was I allowed to touch her? Should have I turned my back to her so she was not uncomfortable?</p><p>She read my concerns, as she always does, and she answered all of those questions with a single caress. I held her in my arms, still not daring to get too close, but throughout the night I found myself entangled with her, attracted by her sweet scent, my face so close to her neck again, and her arms wrapped around me. That night, I felt at home.</p><p>
  <em> ...When everything's made to be broken </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I just want you to know who I am... </em>
</p><p>I’m still halfway cooking my dinner, but I check my phone, hoping to see a new text from Arlet, probably telling me when she’s coming back. Nothing. It’s been four days since I came back to London, and besides a brief conversation we had once I was back in the city, there are no new texts from her. I sigh, leaving it on the counter. I’m dying to know about her, but she asked me for space, and I’m giving it to her.</p><p>But I miss her so much.</p><p>However, after everything she’s going through, I understand that she needs some time for herself. </p><p>Though seeing how her face froze in terror when she saw that man, how she stormed out of the room before I could even get to her, and how I held her in my arms, shaking, while she tried to regain her strength, doesn’t make it any easier to have to be away, even less after knowing in the state he left her the first time, unable to trust anyone like that again. </p><p>A dandelion trying to survive the hurricane. </p><p>When we got back inside the house that night and Arlet went to speak with her mother, Nerea surprised me by grabbing my arm and pulling me to an empty room, making sure her friend couldn’t hear us.</p><p>“I need to talk to you” she said, her voice full of concern, “but she’ll kill me if she finds out I’m doing this, so this must stay between you and me” then, without even giving me the chance to even blink at that, she continued. “Listen, I don’t know how this is going to affect Arlet, I can’t be in London with her when she goes back, and I’m probably going too far by asking you this, but I need you to take care of her for me.”</p><p>I frowned, concerned, and I looked behind me to make sure she wasn’t around. </p><p>“Sure. You didn’t need to ask though” I replied. It was something that I was going to do anyway. “I guess you were there with her when everything happened. What should I look out for? What should I do?”</p><p>I noticed how Nerea’s expression softened, something that I was not sure about what it meant, but I decided not to comment.</p><p>“If you’re here today it’s because you care about her, don’t you?” she asked.</p><p>“Of course” I answered with all honesty. </p><p>
  <em> More than she could even imagine. </em>
</p><p>Nerea sighted, slightly biting her thumb in a thoughtful gesture.</p><p>“She’s probably going to need some space” she finally said. “Which is natural, due to the situation here. So, don’t take it too personal if she’s a bit distant for a few days” I nodded, understanding. After a loss, it’s completely reasonable. “But, and hear me out, because this is important, don’t let her isolate. That’s where the problems could start. Take her out often, distract her, don’t let her think too deep.”</p><p>“Got it” I said. That’s like a green light to keep doing what we’ve been doing until now, but even more frequently. </p><p>“Henry, I know she likes being with you” Nerea said, with a look in her eyes that said how important this was to her. “Trust is really essential to Arlet. It’s something very difficult for her to do, even more after that piece of shit… Sorry.”</p><p>“Don’t be. He is a piece of shit.”</p><p>“Anyway, the point is…”</p><p>“She needs to be able to trust me” I finished for her. I knew where the main issue was when Arlet was telling me the story some moments before. She opened to a man, trusted him like she never trusted anyone else before, and he threw that trust to the ground and drove over it. “To<em> fully </em> trust me.”</p><p>Nerea nodded, slightly surprised because I already knew.</p><p>“Exactly” she replied. “I’m sure she already has some trust in you, otherwise you wouldn’t be here, but after tonight… It might stumble. Please, be patient with her.”</p><p>She looked at me as if she was trying to tell me something else with that, but I couldn’t fully understand what.</p><p>“You know her really well, don’t you?” I asked, half smiling.</p><p>“She’s like a sister to me” she replied. “She’s family.”</p><p>“I promise you, I won’t give up on her” I said, determined. “She’s really important to me as well.</p><p>And I pretend to be true to that promise, no matter how much it takes me.</p><p>Because after that talk, I learned why Arlet pushed me away in the first place, after that night we spent together. She barely knew me, she obviously didn’t trust me, but that didn’t mean, it doesn’t mean, that she doesn’t have feelings for me. Arlet was only doing what she learned in the hard way to do: to protect herself. I only have to show her, to prove to her, that she doesn’t need to protect herself from me, because I wouldn’t do anything that could hurt her in any way. Ever.</p><p>Nerea may have already known that, and she warned me, in a way that she wouldn’t betray her friend’s confidence, that it won’t be an easy road, that it will take time, and I might trip and fall along the way, but that’s ok, because I will get on my feet again and do it better.</p><p>I’m going to chase that storm. I’m going to bring the calm again to my forest. I’m going to protect my dandelion.</p><p>Nothing worthwhile comes easily.</p><p>
  <em> …I just want you to know who I am… </em>
</p><p>My phone vibrates while I’m halfway eating. I grab it and I can’t help but smile when I see a text from Arlet on screen.</p><p>“I’m coming back tomorrow”</p><p>
  <em> Finally. </em>
</p><p>“Picking you up at the airport. Say an hour and I’ll be there”</p><p>“Are you sure it’s a good idea?”</p><p>I know why she’s asking that. Since I have this rule of not stopping to take pictures at airports, people usually make sneaky ones, and if I’m with someone, in this case, Arlet, it could lead to new rumours and the end of her privacy. But I think about her, arriving tired from the travel, carrying her stuff, with nobody else to welcome her there, looking for a cab, and something in my heart aches.</p><p>“Yes, I’ll be discreet”</p><p>
  <em> And I need to see you. </em>
</p><p>For the occasion, I leave Kal at home this time. We’ll be there shortly anyway, so there’s no point in bringing him. This usually doesn’t fool anyone for a long time, but it helps, so I’m wearing a cap and sunglasses, and told Arlet to do the same, just in case. I’m trying to keep my head low, avoiding everyone’s gaze, in a low transited waiting spot, and checking my phone from time to time, waiting for her text. We have agreed, after I insisted on it, to spend the day together, because I still don’t know truly how she’s feeling, and I don’t want to let her isolate since the very first day she’s back. It doesn’t take her long to arrive, and after a quick hug that it’s not even close to being enough for me but I can’t take the risk in public, we head to the parking lot, and I only dare to breathe when we’re both inside the car, safe of curious looks.</p><p>She’s taking her sunglasses now, and I can see her beautiful, honey colored eyes that I’ve missed so much. There’s still a hint of sadness in them, as I expected, but still, Arlet is finally here with me. I will find the way to make her smile again.</p><p>“How are you? How was your flight?” I ask, turning the engine on and starting the drive.</p><p>“The flight was good. I’m… still standing” she answers, with a bit of a tired expression. She has regained her accent from when she recently moved to London, which she slowly lost throughout the months, and I find that really charming. “To be honest I wanted to come back earlier but… I kinda felt bad for my grandmother.”</p><p>“I told you everything could wait here if you wanted to stay longer” I reply, honest, though that would have stung a little. </p><p>Arlet shakes her head, her thumb scratching slightly her forehead.</p><p>“No. The sooner I can go back to normal, the better” she says. </p><p>She can be stubborn sometimes. And I like that about her.</p><p>The girl then leaves her hand on the edge of her seat, next to her thigh, and I can’t help myself anymore, so I put mine over it, wanting to feel her, craving her touch. Her soft skin is a bit cold due to the weather, but it’s her, it’s here, with me. But it only lasts for a brief moment, with her ending the contact by taking her hand back and pulling her sleeves to cover her hands. </p><p>Of course, it wasn’t going to be that easy.</p><p><em> Patience </em>, I remind myself.</p><p>“Are you cold?” I ask, pretending I’m unaware of it, turning the heating on.</p><p>“A bit, yes” she says. “It’s colder in this country, I’m not used to it.”</p><p>“If you’re cold now, I don’t know how you’ll be when it’s winter.”</p><p>I try to keep the conversation going, and she makes her best to do the same, but I easily get the feeling that she’s still a bit off, something normal due to the recent events. I just wish I could do more for her, as she did for me. I try to keep both hands on the wheel all the time, because not being able to touch her makes me crave it even more, and trust that, when we get to my place, things get better.</p><p>They seem to do when we arrive and she kneels to pet Kal, a soft smile on her lips while she does it. I watch the scene silently, half smiling too, afraid to interrupt that moment of calm she can finally have. When Arlet asks the dog if he has missed her, I’m about to answer the question as well, but I hold myself just in time. </p><p>“Are you hungry?” I ask, when she gets on her feet again.</p><p>“Yeah” she says, giving me the remains of that smile, which is more than enough for now.</p><p>We head to the kitchen, where we start preparing lunch. I update her with the work done at the gallery, which peaks her interest and makes us conversate like we used to before, more or less. When it’s about work, it’s like her brain switches and she becomes a new person. But when I ask her what she spent those days doing, her expression changes again, and I instantly regret having asked that. </p><p>“Sorry” I say, immediately. “You don’t need to…”</p><p>“No, it’s ok Hen” she says, as she goes back to cut some tomatoes. I love when she calls me like that, because with her accent it sounds very similar to <em> hun </em>, and whenever I hear it, it warms my heart. “I spent time with my family, with my friends… But he… Philip, he came back again a couple of days ago.”</p><p>I stop cutting the veggies for the salad and I look at her. Her eyes are fixed on the tomato, which she’s taking more time than normal to cut. That guy makes me want to go back to my primal instincts and just punch him in the face.</p><p>“What did he want?” I ask, when the silence is lasting too long, and after considering if I should or not.</p><p>“According to him, only to know how I was doing” she says, shrugging. “But I’m not that dumb anymore. I know he’s after something.”</p><p>A bit of a proud smile escapes from my lips. That’s my Arlet. </p><p>“He probably is aware now of what he let go” I say, going back to my veggies.</p><p>“He can go fuck himself with a spoon for what I care” she replies. Then, her hands stop doing their work. “But both of his visits have… Hurt more than I expected.”</p><p>I look at her, so small and fragile right now, and I can’t help myself. I clean my hands with a kitchen cloth and then I walk closer to her, putting some strands of her hair behind her ear so I can see her face.</p><p>“Hey…” I say, as I do the hand motion.</p><p>Big mistake. She basically jumps in place and walks away from me, but when she does, she lets go a painful groan, mutters a “shit” and runs to the sink, putting her hand under the water. I realize then, the cut on her finger, which makes me walk some steps towards her in concern.</p><p>“I… I’m sorry, Let” I say, hesitant about if I should approach or not. “I can take care of it if you let me.”</p><p>“It’s ok, Hen, it’s just a cut, I can handle it” Arlet says, her voice being soft, but not even glancing in my direction.</p><p>The silence sets once more in the kitchen, only interrupted by the sound of running water coming out of the tap. When it seems that she managed to get it under control, she finally closes the water and I hand her a cloth. I feel both guilty and useless in all of this. I’m not sure if I’m doing this the right way or if I’m pressuring her too much, too quick. Maybe it was my excitement to see Arlet that made me arrange the plan for today, and not my rational self. But when it comes to her, I can’t be rational. I only know I want to be near.</p><p>Then, she looks at me with a gentle expression.</p><p>“Hey, it’s only a small cut, nothing to worry about” she says, her soft voice interrupting my thoughts. </p><p>“Yeah I’m sorry I…” I sigh, looking away and rubbing the back of my head with a bit of frustration. “I’m just trying to…”</p><p>“Hen” she calls me, making me look at her and realize that she’s closer than before. Her caramel eyes are fixed in mine, with a new shine of affection. “I know. And I already feel better by being here with you.”</p><p>Arlet leans closer and hugs me with one arm, keeping her hurt hand close to her chest, and I don’t hesitate to give into that hug. I wrap both of my arms around her, holding her tight, finally doing what I’ve been keeping myself from since I saw her appear today. I bury my fingers in her hair, I leave a kiss on her temple and I sink in her wonderful perfume while resting my cheek on her head. I’m sure that every problem in the world could be solved if she let me hug her like this every time.</p><p>“I’m not going to leave your side, you know that, right?” I mutter, slowly rubbing my hand up and down her back.</p><p>
  <em> Trust that I won’t. </em>
</p><p>I feel her smile against my chest.</p><p>“That’s an odd thing to say for someone who’s always traveling” she replies, and with that, my stomach sinks. </p><p>
  <em> Step by step, Henry. Step by step. </em>
</p><p>“I might be away sometimes” I say, “but if you ever need me, you only have to call.”</p><p>For her, I’d leave whatever I’m doing, even if I’m in the other corner of the world.</p><p>Arlet lifts her head, looking at me with those eyes that I’d like to be the first thing I see every morning when I wake up, and gives me a fond smile. A smile I’m dying to kiss.</p><p>“If you start to neglect your work again because of me, Marco is going to be pissed at me again” she says, “and we’re starting to get along, it would be a shame.”</p><p>That makes me smile, caught by surprise. Yes, Marco can be like that sometimes.</p><p>“Are you two going to be best friends now?” I joke, pretending to be a bit jealous. “I saw you two talking quite a lot the other day in the studio.”</p><p>With that, her face changes completely, something I didn’t expect. Arlet opens her eyes wide and her expression turns into a ‘oh shit’ expression that makes me worry instantly. </p><p>“What is it? What did I say?” I ask, wondering how it is possible to be messing everything up so much today.</p><p>“No, nothing, I just remembered...” she says. “I need to talk to you about something.”</p><p>“If it’s bad, can it wait?” I ask, not really wanting to add more problems to the list right now.</p><p>“No, it can’t. You said the same the other night when we were in my apartment and I forgot about it for <em> days </em>, Henry” she replies, looking at me with a serious face. “I promised Marco I would tell you soon. And I want to do it before you find out by accident.”</p><p>I frown, now with my curiosity definitely peaked. The first thing that comes to my mind is ‘she’s going to tell me she’s dating someone’ but it has no sense, because why would Marco care about that. I nod, releasing her from my embrace, letting her go to fetch her phone, wondering what could be so important. After a few seconds, she hands it to me. On the screen, there’s an article about me, as so many others, but this has a recent date, and talks about rumours about a girlfriend. I look at her, frowning. Maybe she’s worried because she thinks I’m dating someone?</p><p>“Keep scrolling” she says, when she’s aware of my gaze.</p><p>I do. And then, I see the pictures. It takes me a bit to remember when these were taken, but when I see Arlet with the hood up, with me holding her hand, the day comes again to my mind. It was that awful day I found out about the Razzies and she was the only one able to make me forget about them, making me smile and push the bad thoughts away. I take a good look at each one of the pictures, concerned about having put her privacy at risk, but thankfully, in none of them her face is visible. I snort a frustrated sigh. This only makes the good memories of that day become more distant, and the knot of stress, anger and anxiety become bigger.</p><p>“Why did you two keep this from me?” I ask, handing her back her phone. I’m not angry, not at her at least, but it definitely pisses me off to be the last one to know, and even more, to be the one responsible for having put her privacy in danger.</p><p>“Have you forgotten how you were that day?” she asks, putting her phone back in her pocket. “You were one step left to have a breakdown, you had to do the interview, and we couldn’t risk it in front of the cameras.”</p><p>I remember, of course. It was one of those days when the world felt just too heavy to deal with it, and she came to me to give me the strength to keep going. She not only did that, but also shielded me from a strong hit that could have left me on the ground that day, and had the strength to carry it with her so I wouldn’t worry about it.</p><p>“I wanted to tell you, but we didn’t have a break. And when you came to my house, you asked me to leave it be for that night and…”</p><p>“Hey, it’s ok” I interrupt her, putting both of my hands over her arms, guessing what the next part of the story is. “It’s ok” I insist.</p><p>“I’ll understand if you’re mad at me” she says, making my heart twist in pain.</p><p>“Mad at you? Let…” I sigh, frustrated. “I would never be mad at you for something like this” when I say it, I do it looking her in the eye, because I want her to know that I would never, ever, blame her for trying to protect me. “I’m not mad. Well, I am, but not with you, or Marco. And more than that, I’m worried about you. What if they… What if your face was visible in one of the pictures? Then what?”</p><p>Or worse, what if someone followed me today and shot some pictures of us at the airport. What if the next time this happens, she’s not this lucky.</p><p>I’ve been trying to shield her from this since the rumours started, shortly after we became friends when she moved. I tried to keep my distance when we were together, not giving any excuse to the paparazzi to think that there was something else than business between us, and I even had to say in the interview before the gallery opening that it’s not in my plans to have a relationship in the near future. But after a while I lowered my defenses, I relaxed too much, thinking that nothing would happen, and these are the consequences. Only because I was too selfish that day to keep the distance.</p><p>“We’ll cross that bridge if we ever get to it” she says, the sweetest look in her eyes that I’ve ever seen.</p><p>I clearly don’t deserve her.</p><p>“Let…”</p><p>“No, Henry” she interrupts me before I can even start. “You don’t need to carry all that weight over your shoulders.”</p><p>“And is it fair that I put it on yours instead?”</p><p>“I can carry more than what you give me credit for.”</p><p>And right there, in front of me, she’s no longer a dandelion. She’s a storm I want to chase.</p><p>“You are the most stubborn woman I’ve ever known, do you know that?” I say, finally letting go half a smile I can’t hold back anymore.</p><p>Arlet gives me another smile back, and I feel a bit better since this topic came out. As long as she’s ok, I guess I can let this slip pass. But I really need to take care so there isn’t a next one. However, I find it funny how none of us seems to be bothered by the fact that she has been taken for my girlfriend, but if she doesn’t mention it, I’m not going to do it either.</p><p>After having lunch, we decide to go for a walk with Kal in the fields around the neighbourhood, away from curious eyes and sneaky cameras. I try to keep myself from touching and let Arlet initiate physical contact whenever she feels ready, which ends up not being as often as we used to before, but it’s what she needs right now, I can survive to some touch craving. I’m starting to think I have an issue, because if I could, I wouldn’t keep my hands off her.</p><p>By the end of the afternoon, I give her a ride home, trying to spend until the very last second I can with her, but when we’re finally at the door of her building, I know that time is about to end, and the knot in my stomach comes back, knowing that I’ll miss her terribly tonight.</p><p>“Do you want me to pick you up tomorrow?” I ask, hoping she says yes.</p><p>Arlet looks at me, hesitant, before opening the car’s door.</p><p>“I’m possibly staying at the gallery trying to catch up with everything, Hen, I don’t think I’ll have time for fun after work” she replies.</p><p>“I can bring dinner there” I suggest, that being my last chance. Though I’m possibly considering doing it anyway if she says no.</p><p>But, to my surprise, she nods, with a soft smile in her lips.</p><p>“Ok. That sounds nice” she finally says. “See you tomorrow then.”</p><p>“See you tomorrow” I promise.</p><p>I watch how she gets out of the car, and I wait until she’s inside the building, out of my sight completely, to start the engine again and start the ride back to home. I turn the radio on when the silence starts to feel heavy. To my surprise, a familiar melody starts playing.</p><p>
  <em> ...And all I can taste is this moment </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And all I can breathe is your life </em>
</p><p>
  <em> When sooner or later it’s over </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I just don’t wanna miss you tonight… </em>
</p><p>It makes me think of that night, the night that I finally jumped into the pool and kissed her, after weeks, months hesitating. She tasted like wine and smelled like flowers, and looked like a lady from a James Bond movie. I still feel the touch of her skin, her lips against mine, and the warmth of her body next to me when we finally went to sleep. I thought that night would change everything for us, and it did, though certainly not the way I expected. When after a shower I came back to an empty room, to an empty bed, it felt as if something was taken away from me. Today, I can only hope to be one step closer to the day she’s finally ready to open her heart again.</p><p>
  <em> ...When everything’s made to be broken... </em>
</p><p>And hope that, at the end of that road, she loves me back.</p><p>
  <em> ...I just want you to know who I am… </em>
</p><p>It’s surprising how long days can be when I’m by myself, and how short they are when I spend them with Arlet. It has been like that since the first day we met. That afternoon in her old gallery went by so fast I didn’t even notice it was closing time until she told me. As I lay on the bed, looking at the paintings hanging on the wall, a wall that was empty before I met Arlet, I think about how my life has changed since that day. </p><p>I knew she was special since the first moment I laid my eyes on her, though I didn’t know what kind of special she was. But after that dinner together, when I found myself wanting to see her again the next day, I learned that it wasn’t going to be easy to get that girl out of my system. And when we walked and talked all the way to the beach, after sharing hopes and dreams, after seeing how well she understood me, I knew that couldn’t be the last day I was going to see her. So, beyond the reasons of wanting to help her to achieve her dream, of believing in her talent and knowledge about art, of being business partners, the main reason of wanting her to move to London was to be able to see her again, and more often. To have her close.</p><p>
  <em> ...I just want you to know who I am... </em>
</p><p>I unconsciously knew back then that I would be lost without her.</p><p>
  <em> ...I just want you to know who I am... </em>
</p><p>And that, somehow, she was able to see through me as nobody has seen before.</p><p>
  <em> ...I just want you to know who I am...</em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <em>And I don't want the world to see me </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 'Cause I don't think that they'd understand </em>
</p><p>
  <em> When everything's made to be broken </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I just want you to know who I am </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I just want you to know who I am </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I just want you to know who I am</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Chapter based on the song <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aNO6yd66PpA&amp;ab_channel=hausrihanna">Iris from the Goo Goo Dolls</a></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This chapter is shorter than the usual ones, I'm sorry. I just don't feel like adding up just for the sake of making it long. I'd rather have a short chapter with everything I wanted to say, than a long one beating around the bushes. It also was a very complicated one to write.</p><p>I had the idea for this one while listening to the song it's based on (Iris from the Goo Goo Dolls). I realized that it fits their story *so much* that I couldn't let it out of it, and the only way I could do something with it was under Henry's perspective. I wanted to show how he cared about her way long before she could imagine, but I didn't want to make the same story all again, so I hope it's not a confusing chapter.</p><p>We're one step closer to the end, but there's still a long way ahead.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. After the hurricane</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Things seem to calm down for Arlet for a while as she goes back to her normal life. Henry, however, is having a bit of trouble.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The National Gallery is an enormous indoor labyrinth decorated by old pieces of art that stare at you as you try to find the way out. At least, that’s my perception of it. However, it’s a beautiful place to get lost for hours. I have just come out from another meeting with Mr. Grendel to update the staff of the Gallery on how we are progressing with the selection of the artists for our future collaboration with them. The exhibition is planned to be a mix of old and new, classic and contemporary. It’s a project I’m very excited about and that keeps me distracted from the recent events. With Vesta and Mellory, the new assistant, taking care of our gallery, I give myself some hours to enjoy a visit I haven’t had the chance to have here, so I wander by, the remains of my warm tea in hand, <a href="https://i.pinimg.com/564x/55/7f/f1/557ff10d10bda51ed3e187114d31a773.jpg">long brown jacket</a> still on and a <a href="https://i.pinimg.com/564x/4b/28/11/4b28118428a7ce9b6a6ea8dd77c67397.jpg">messy bun</a> tied up on top of my head, room after room, while I wait until lunch time, when I’m supposed to meet Henry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After we finally talked about the pictures, we have agreed to reduce our visits to public spaces, which means I’m spending more time in his house. And it doesn’t matter how much I try to go back home after work, because he will make the puppy eyes and make me feel guilty about canceling a plan, and I’ll end up going with him anyway. We see each other almost everyday, if he’s able to. I have a vague idea of why, and I wonder if Nerea has had something to do with this. But without proof, there’s only suspicions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, this makes it more difficult for me to forget my feelings for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Since I came back, everytime he touches me, a hurricane shakes my inner self, leaving me trembling. That’s why I try to keep myself away from any physical contact. But I crave his touch, and I’m weak sometimes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I check my watch, calculating how much time will take me to go from Trafalgar Square to Henry’s house. I still have some time left, but I decide to not risk it and leave now, so I find my way outside and get a cab to take me there. I don’t like to be late.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Around half an hour later, I walk across the fence that limits his garden, climbing the three steps that lead to the main entrance, and I knock on the door. I wait, hands in my pockets, trying to fight the cold of the end of November. But nobody opens the door. Frowning in confusion, I knock again. And wait.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I hear some steps coming from the side of the house and I see Kal, waving his fluffy tail at me as he comes to welcome me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey buddy” I say, kneeling on the floor to pet him. “Where’s your dad? How can he be late if we’re meeting at his own place, huh?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dog tilts his head, looking at me, and then starts to walk back towards where he came from, but before Kal turns the corner, he stops and looks at me. If it wasn’t impossible, I’d say he wants me to follow him. I sigh, looking at the door, still closed. I guess I can play with the dog while I wait for his owner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, Kal doesn’t stop at the toys he has spread all over the place, but goes to the back porch and finds his way inside the house. I realize then that the back door that leads to the kitchen is open. With a mix of concern and confusion, I hurry to the inside, trying to see where the dog went. I find him not too far, at the kitchen table, where Henry is sitting on one of the chairs in a weird posture, one of his legs completely stretched, and his face covered by one of his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, didn’t you hear me knocking or what?” I say, approaching him. It’s then when I realize that his face it’s tensed in pain, and he is still in his sportswear. “What’s wrong? What happened?” I ask immediately when I arrive at his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His expression softens when he sees me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey” he manages to say. “It’s ok, it’s nothing. I just need to cool down for a second…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you seriously going to pretend that you’re ok? Because it totally doesn’t look like nothing to me” I say, not sure if I’m more mad at him or just worried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t know where it hurts him, but something clearly does. I put a hand on his shoulder, still covered in sweat from the run, and his hand instantly comes to mine, grabbing it almost desperately. Oh yes, it definitely hurts somewhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s… My thigh. I think I got a muscle injury” he says, finally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I look down at his stretched leg. I don’t know what I was expecting to see, since it’s a muscle wound and those are not really visible, but he’s wearing shorts, despite the cold weather, and all of the muscles of his leg are very defined, and oh god why did I never realize how thick his thighs were before?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How much does it hurt? Can you walk?” I ask, trying to fight the blush back. I need to focus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I don’t know…” he then tries to get on his feet, but his expression full of pain leaves it clear that he can’t by himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok this is serious Henry, you need to see a doctor” I say, trying really hard to not panic right now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you’re right” his voice sounds really low, twisted in pain. “You’re going to have to take me there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My eyes open wide. Me?!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?! No, no, no. I have never driven here, and you guys drive weird, I can’t do it” I reply, completely terrified by the idea. I didn’t drive that much at home, even less since I moved to my own apartment in the city.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then who else? Kal? I can’t drive like this, Arlet” he says, raising his gaze up at me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, so because you hurt your leg now both of us have to die in a car accident” I sigh, looking at our hands, his still holding mine tightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be exaggerated! I’ve gone in a car with you, you drive great” he says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, because we were in my country, in a small village, where everybody drives on the right and I knew where I was going.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Let, it’s not that different. I’ll be right by your side, guiding you” he insists, looking me in the eye, pleading. “I know you’ll do great, I trust you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh god you had to say it like that” I mutter, irritated. It’s my weak spot, he might know that or not, but when someone shows they trust me like that, I can’t just… let them down. I look at him, I can still see he’s in pain, and I remember he took a flight to another country to be with me when I needed him the most. I sight. “...Fine. But we need to get you to the car first. Where are the keys?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I go here and there around the house, closing doors, grabbing keys, his ID, a jacket for him and everything he needs. When we’re ready, I lean by his side and let him put his arm over my shoulders so we can try to get him out of the chair. Henry groans in pain, and I try to not fall under the weight he’s putting on me, because he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>so heavy</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but we manage to find a posture that will do, though we move slowly until we finally get to the car in his garage. Getting him inside it’s another thing. We maneuver however we can, and at the end, he just drops himself on the seat, but also drags me with him and makes me stumble and fall almost all over him, saving his bad thigh for millimeters. We look at each other, panting and recovering from the effort. One of his hands gently lands on my thigh and the other on my lower back, preventing me from falling more, while both of my arms are over his shoulders, the two of us barely aware that our faces are so close right now I can notice the soft freckles he has across his nose bridge, only visible for those who pay enough attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Let?” he mutters, his Adam’s apple moving as he swallows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” I ask, completely absent right now, totally lost in the blue of his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right! Shit. Sorry” I go back to my senses, getting out of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I move to the other side of the car, trying really hard to not blush and probably failing on the attempt, and I get on the driver’s seat. Right now I feel like a five years old wearing her mother’s shoes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit Henry, you’re a giant” I say when I sit and I can’t get to the pedals.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can adjust the seat with…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I found it, I’m on it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I adjust everything, seat and mirrors, to my stature. It’s so weird to have everything on the opposite side of where it should be. Still nervous, I look at Henry, who is patiently waiting, even when he must be in terrible pain right now, and he stares back at me, a comprehensive look in his eyes that says ‘I know’. He then offers me his hand, over which I end up placing mine, his fingers closing over it with a gentle squeeze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You got this, ok?” he says, looking me in the eye. “Trust me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I trust you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“If we die because you made me drive your car I’m going to kill you” I say, completely serious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Ok, seems fair” he replies, trying to hide an amused smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I start the engine, Henry opens the garage door, and the adventure begins. I put in reverse gear and I slowly get the car out, scared to death of making the tiniest of the scratches. I remember to place myself in the correct lane, and then I start following Henry’s indications. His voice is so smooth and relaxing it slowly calms my nerves down, and with him guiding me in every step, I start to feel more confident. Several minutes later we finally get to the hospital, where I try to park the car the closest I can to the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it wasn’t that bad” he says, once I pull the keys out, looking proudly at me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, I’m not sure we’re not dead yet” I joke, finally smiling, all the tension leaving my body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did it great, Let, give yourself some credit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I look at him, fondly. He always finds the way to make me feel safe when I have to do things out of my comfort zone, and it started with me moving to a different country and starting my own business, with him as my partner. He asked me to trust him, but in my own way, I’m realizing that I’ve always done, since day one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s get you out of here” I say, removing my seat belt and getting out of the car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though when we had the perfect posture to lift him before when we were at his house, taking him out of the car still requires a lot of effort. I’m still a small human carrying a heavy giant with me. However, we manage to get to the door, where some nurses finally take Henry from me and leave me in a waiting room while they take care of him. It seems that it’s going to take a while, so I call Vesta and tell her to not wait for me to come back for the rest of the day and to send me every email she can’t get through. I’ll work some hours tonight when I get home. After that, I call Marco and tell him about Henry’s situation, that he will call him later too and give a better explanation, but I warn him that he might have to miss whatever he has to do during the next few days, since it looked like a serious wound if he couldn’t even walk by himself. The man thanks me for the warning and then hangs up to keep working. That leaves me with nothing to do but wait. And it’s a loooong wait.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not until a couple of hours later, if not more, that a couple of nurses bring Henry back to me, in a wheelchair that definitely makes the work of carrying him much easier. One of them feels confident enough to even touch his shoulder while she laughs, probably at something he just said, making my stomach twist in slight anger. I don’t know what upsets me more about that, the gesture from her or that Henry doesn’t seem bothered about it. But the worst is not knowing </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> it upsets me at all, when I know he’s not going to go home with her, but with me. I try to bury those feelings deep inside me and try to look normal. However, when they finally arrive at where I am and I get out of the seat, the girl looks more inhibited and stops the physical contact. Making a huge effort to not roll my eyes, I pretend I haven’t seen anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Let, here you are” he says, way more happy to see me than what would be normal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right where you left me” I reply, making my most polite smile, though I still see the nurse giving me the eye. “You look like you’re feeling better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We gave him something for the pain” the other nurse says, looking way more professional than her partner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both of them help me to get him to the car, not sure if because they have to, or because they want to. In any case, when the time comes to help Henry into the car, I’m the one he asks to, and they end up leaving with the empty wheelchair, pretty sure more disappointed than before. I feel way better when they leave, but I also wonder if this is going to give more strength to the girlfriend rumours. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once I’m in the car, Henry tells me an abbreviated version of what the doctor told him, that he has a muscular injury that is going to require several physiotherapy sessions and at least a couple of months of rest, and that if it heals properly. He also insisted that Henry is going to need help during the first days, since it’s convenient that he moves the least possible, and even though I’m driving when he tells me that, I’m pretty sure he’s looking at me. We stop by so I can buy some painkillers for him and head back to his place, the ride this time being easier now that the main worry, his wound, has been taken care of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Back at his house, I have to help him out of the car again, easier this time because he’s not hurting that much, and since he can’t go upstairs, I sit him on one of the couches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I believe we should make the couch your bed for some days” I say, dropping myself on the seat next to him, exhausted. “Just tell me where everything is, and I’ll take care.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry tilts his head in my direction, probably as tired as I am, if not more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the best, do you know that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That makes me smile in affection. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Flatterer” I say. “I bet Kal is a better nurse than I am, but I have to try at least.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once he tells me where I can find some blankets and to take the pillows from his bed, he also asks me to bring him some clean clothes, because he reeks and wants to take a shower. I only let him do it after he promises me he’s not going to fall being by himself while he is at it, but the fact of having to bring him clean underwear as well makes me blush intensely. And also, being again in his room, where I haven’t been in months, since I woke up alone in his bed, doesn’t help either. While he takes a shower, I prepare the couch as best as I can so he can be comfortable, and once he’s out and resting again, I start to cook something to eat because it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>so late</span>
  </em>
  <span>, we haven’t eaten lunch because of what happened, and we’re both starving almost at dinner time. We eat together in the living room, talking about how our morning was before today’s incident, and maybe it’s because of his meds or because he’s more relaxed now, but he’s being very touchy. It’s been a while since the last time he was like that, probably since I asked him for some space, right after the funeral, and even though sometimes his mere touch still shakes me to my foundations, I can make an exception just for today. It feels good anyway. After that, I go to prepare myself to go back home, but when I get out of the couch, he looks at me in confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, are you leaving?” he asks, taking my hand before I move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it’s getting late, Hen, and you should rest” I reply, sitting again next to him. “But I’ll be back tomorrow if you want to” Henry groans in a childish complaint, which makes me chuckle. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have to?” he asks back, slightly frowning. “Can’t you stay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I look at Henry, the plea written in his eyes when he stares back at me, and I sigh. Damned be the day he found out I can’t resist the puppy eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want me to stay?” I ask, though already knowing his answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes” he replies almost immediately. “Please, don’t leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I can’t help a fond smile blooming in my lips after his insistence, and I end up nodding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, I’ll stay for tonight” I say, and with that, I make him smile again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We end up watching something on tv but not really paying attention to it, more like it’s basically making some background noise while we talk. He’s laying all over the couch so he can have his leg properly stretched, and I’m sitting on the floor, wrapped in a blanket, with my side resting on the seat so I can face him. Time ago I would probably have felt like a stranger in a situation like this, but now it kinda feels natural, even normal, to just be with him in such an intimate moment, him being hurt and needing some help at home. Like it was also natural to have him with me at the funeral. Sometimes I wonder if we’re too close, if that would hurt us in the future. I see more clearly now what Nerea told me during the summer, we act like a couple most of the time. That is why we were photographed in the street, and that is why the nurse today stopped her flirting when she saw me. The friendship I have with Henry is the weirdest I’ve ever had, I have never been only friends with someone I’m in love with, and as much as I want him close, it scares me to death at the same time. But when I see him like he is right now, a sleepy gaze in his eyes, a soft smile on his lips, the fear is almost non existent. He looks happy just now, and it makes me happy as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you thinking about?” he asks me in a low, tired voice, when the silence between us is starting to grow long. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My eyes go back to his, looking at him with affection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In how different my life is now than it was a year ago” I say, half lying, my head resting on the seat of the couch, as I pull the blanket up to cover my shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that good?” he asks, his hand gently putting a loose strand of hair behind my ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes” I reply, allowing him to touch as much as he wants. “I like how my life is now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As long as you’re near.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He starts caressing my cheek with the tip of his fingers very gently, as if he’s scared of damaging me. The fingers go down my jaw, slowly making their way to my chin, and then all the way back to my cheek again, a slow motion that makes me relax even more than I was already.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad to hear that” he says. “You deserve to be happy, Let.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fingers keep wandering by my skin, making me want to just close my eyes and give into the touch of it. I tell myself that nothing will happen if I rest my sight for just a couple of minutes, so I close them, surrendering to his warm touch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that’s how I fall asleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Morning finds us there, in that very same position, something that I’m starting to regret already due to the back cramps I’m starting to feel right now. Henry’s hand is cupping my face, basically supported by my shoulder. He is still deep asleep, probably because of his meds, and because it’s still early, judging by the soft light that enters by the windows. I carefully remove his hand, trying to not wake him, and, with a yawn, I stretch my back, as sore as it is. On the other couch, Kal awakes from his slumber as well, raising his ears when he sees me stretch, but doesn’t seem to have any intention to move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I remain there, wondering what to do. Yesterday was chaotic, my work is piling up, but I shouldn’t leave Henry alone like this. However, I do need a change of clothes, and a shower, and my laptop, and… Oh god, a coffee as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As silently as I can, I wrap myself again in the blanket and I go to the kitchen to prepare some of the brown beverage. First things first. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few minutes later, I’m sitting in the kitchen so I don’t disturb Henry, drinking the coffee as I try to organise my day. The only solution I can find is to work from here, but for that I need my things, so I have to go home one way or another. I sigh, calling an uber from my phone. If I leave now, I can probably be back before he wakes up, but just in case, I should leave a note.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I went home to have a shower and change my clothes. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Don’t do anything stupid. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-Arlet</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>After I write it, I take the note, fill a glass with water, take his meds, and leave everything on the coffee table, so he can see it if he wakes up before I’m back. Then, when my uber is finally here, I put on my coat, I grab my purse and his keys, and I leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The warm water of my shower helps to ease the pain in my back. How the hell I was able to sleep like that throughout the night, only god knows. After feeling like a functioning person again, <a href="https://i.pinimg.com/564x/af/2f/7f/af2f7f317a11fce4ae4d6c4bee7d91b2.jpg">I dress up again</a>, I grab a bag with my laptop and jump to the street again. Before taking a cab back to his place, I stop by one of our favorite cafeterias and I buy some bagels filled with all kinds of yummy stuff that I know he loves, and also some pastries. During the time I’m out, I check my phone several times to see if he has texted me, but there’s nothing, which means he’s still asleep, or he has seen the note and is ok with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the end, I’m away a bit more than an hour, give or take. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I open the main door, and I immediately have Kal happily greeting me. I try to hush him, since I don’t know if Henry is still asleep or not. Thankfully, he’s not a dog who barks a lot. I quietly walk into the living room and check on Henry. Still asleep, for what it seems, so I start to move to the kitchen. But then…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let?” I hear him mutter behind me, his voice coming from the couch. “You back already?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes” I say, walking back with a gentle smile. I notice then that the note that I left over the table is missing, and that he has it in his hand, now curled against his chest since he turned to his side, apparently trying to go back to sleep. “How are you feeling? Did you take your meds?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmmh” he makes an affirmative noise, turning slightly so he can see me. “Whatcha got there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Breakfast” I say, walking some more steps leaving the bag with my laptop on the floor, as I sit on the other couch with the bagels. “You can keep sleeping if you want. These are going to wait for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I show him the bag with the bagels in it, which has the logo of the cafeteria that he recognises immediately, his lips drawing a soft, sleepy smile, and starts to get up so he can sit properly. Sometimes, in moments like this, I forget he’s almost a decade older than me, because he has that shine in his eyes that makes him look younger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know I don’t like to make anyone wait” he says, combing his curls with his fingers, shaking them slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I laugh, handing him the bag. He takes my wrist instead and pulls from me, making me get out of the couch and sit next to him, which only makes me laugh more. We share the food, sitting very closely, comfortably. I offer him a bite from my bagel and when he takes my hand to bring it to his mouth, I feel those already familiar butterflies in my stomach, and I wish, silently, that these intimate moments between us never end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have some cream cheese on your lip” I say, noticing a bit of white on his lower lip. “No, not there, here” I see him try and fail again, and I can’t help it. “No, it’s here, let me…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I rub my thumb gently right where he has it, but before I can pull my hand away, he takes it and puts my finger between his lips, cleaning that way the cheese out of it. My heart skips a beat when our eyes meet right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I couldn’t waste it” he says, his voice full of innocence, but I’d swear I could detect a hint of mischief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure” I say, taking my hand back, turning my head as I try to hide a blush.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, that was weird.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>My head is a great mess right now. Has he done that on purpose? Is he playing with me? I can hear my heart beating loudly in my ears as I try to finish, now without any appetite left, the remains of my bagel. Maybe it was something made out of innocence, a joke that I might have taken too seriously, and I shouldn’t give it more importance than that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, after that, Henry keeps his distance with me, as if he’s afraid to have gone too far.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” I ask, several minutes of awkward silence later, when I see him trying to get up by himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gotta go to the bathroom” he answers, making a painful expression after the try.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know you can ask me for help, do you?” I say, with a sigh, forgetting about what just happened when I see him in pain and hurrying to put his arm over my shoulders. “Don’t be so stubborn, would you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And just like that, we’re back to normal again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After I take Henry back to the couch, I take the laptop out, ready to set up my office with him in the living room. He looks surprised when he sees I’ve brought my laptop with me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How else do you expect me to work?” I ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The expression on his face clearly says that he thought I was going to leave for work, and silently thanks me for not doing so. I give him half a smile and I sit next to him when I see he makes room for me. On his side of the couch, Henry reads one of the books I brought him from his room yesterday, and on my side, I read and write emails and more emails, with my computer over my lap. I feel his eyes on me more than once, but when I lift mine from the screen, he’s already gone back to his book. The room is quiet, everything is peaceful, and this moment of being together but doing different things is just as good as the ones we have having fun together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A couple of hours later, someone knocks on the door, and I go to open it before Henry has the chance to ask me to do so. I’m surprised to see Marco there, wearing his usual work suit and sunglasses, and apparently, he’s as surprised to see me there too. There’s another man who I don’t recognise with him, carrying a huge bag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, look what the cat brought” Marco says when he sees me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could say the same” I reply, leaning against the doorframe, my arms crossed over my chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you live here now?” he asks, obviously a joke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alternate weeks and every weekend” I reply, half a grin blooming in my lips as I let them pass, closing the door behind them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I lead the two men to the living room, where Henry is waiting, his book now closed on the coffee table. He greets Marco with a friendly smile and a strong handshake, and the other man with a polite shake, who turns out to be his physiotherapist. At first, I listen closely, paying attention to the current condition of Henry’s injury and what the physiotherapist suggests, but when he starts talking about massaging the damaged area, which certainly involves Henry being half naked on a massage table, probably groaning at the touch in ways I have heard him do and I’d rather not evocate right now, I decide it’s the best time to take Kal out for a long walk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The nearby fields, usually endless green, are now a dry, greyish landscape under the cold weather of the near end of autumn. Kal wanders by here and there, sniffing every plant, picking sticks for me to throw, burning the energy he couldn’t burn yesterday because it was such a chaotic day for his owner and me. He seems to be happy just enjoying the moment, with no concerns about the future, or the present. I envy him. Sometimes my head is so terribly full of troubles and worries that I don’t understand how I manage to fall asleep every night, or how I am still standing. Is this what people call being resilient?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You are stronger than you think you are.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry’s voice comes to my mind, that conversation we had some weeks ago. How can he be so sure about that? How can he know, when I feel like I’m breaking at every step I make?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If I was as strong as he says I am, his mere touch wouldn’t make me tremble whenever I’m off guard. I wouldn’t be so scared of being in love.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kal comes back to the rock I’m currently sitting at, watching him run. If there’s anyone who I’m not afraid to love, is this enormous, happy ball of hair that is panting in front of me right now, his tongue out and his tail wagging. He doesn’t understand doubts, fears, heartbreaks. He just loves unconditionally, and makes it easy to love him back. I scratch him behind his ears, smiling. It would be so easy to live like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I check my watch. It’s been a bit more than an hour and a half since we left. I guess that by now everybody will have their pants on if I start to head back to Henry's place, so Kal and I start our way back. I don’t see any car at the door, so I guess Marco and the physiotherapist are already gone. Kal goes to greet Henry and then directly to drink some water while I’m taking off my coat and leaving his leash in place. I then go to see how Henry is doing, finding him sitting all along the couch, wearing some shorts, his wounded leg flexed and his hand pressing what looks like a cloth against his thigh, probably with some ice pack inside or something. His face is clouded in pain, sign that apparently the session was rougher than I expected. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey” I say, sitting on the edge of the couch seat, right next to him. As gently as I can, I take some of his curls out of his face, making him look at me with a tired smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you feeling?” I ask, though I can guess the answer already.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry takes my palm with his free hand, pressing it against his cheek. I stroke his pomule gently with my thumb, which makes him close his eyes and give into the touch. However he’s feeling, he seems to relax instantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As if my own leg wanted to divorce from the rest of my body” he answers. “But I’ll live” he adds, half smiling, still with his eyes closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It takes something bigger to bring you down, that’s for sure” I say with a soft smile in my lips as well. “You’ll get better soon. Until then, you have me right here to help you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opens his eyes, now smiling at me also with his gaze. I’m aware he’s suffering right now, that this muscle injury has him really screwed and he hates being forced to sit and do nothing, Henry, who enjoys having always something to do. It would be even worse if I left him alone. How on earth could I do that to him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want me to hold you while we watch a movie?” I ask, after a couple of minutes of silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His smile grows bigger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the best thing I’ve heard today since you told me you brought bagels” he answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He moves to make me room between his back and the pile of pillows he was resting at, and I make myself comfortable there, letting him rest his head on my chest as I pass both of my arms over his shoulders, hugging him. There might be times in which bad memories overwhelm me and make me run away from his touch, but for each one of those, there are five more like this one, in which I’m as comfortable as I was before, because only Henry is able to make me feel this safe. It’s a slow process, and it’s taking time, but with each passing day, I’m feeling better. Philip is still a bad nightmare that haunts me from time to time, but if I was able to overcome him once, I’m sure that I’ll be able to do it again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>With time, the pain won’t be there anymore. I promise to you.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I hope you’re right, Hen.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, it’s now official” I say as I fetch a bowl from one of the cupboards, “you’re going to be at least two months off work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That if rehabilitation goes as it should and I heal well” Henry replies, sitting at the kitchen table so he can help me with lunch, even if it’s just cutting some veggies from where he is. “If not, it could be even more, which would totally suck, because I can’t delay more shootings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can now move easily around with a crutch that the physiotherapist got him this morning, and that way I don’t have to carry him until the pain lowers enough so he can walk again by himself. I know he’s bored, even more if he’s left alone in another room, and that’s the only reason I let him move from the couch, because he should rest especially for the first days if he wants to heal properly, but as long as he’s sitting, I won’t be too bothered about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you better behave then” I reply as I bring him the bowl, leaving it in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I always do” he protests, looking up at me as he says that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you?” I reply back, raising an eyebrow at him, not passing much time until I let a smirk bloom in my face when I see him smiling as well. He looks like he feels better after some rest and a movie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry puts the veggies in the bowl and I take it to the pan that’s already heating on the fire. We’re cooking some wok today. The sound of the veggies reacting to the warm oil fills the kitchen, but it’s not loud enough to cover the sounds of Henry’s steps with the crutch coming to my direction. I turn, raising the wooden spoon at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I believe I heard you saying you always behave” I say. “Go back to your seat if you don’t want to taste the fury of the spoon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re very bossy for such a short girl” he says, really teasing me right now, placing himself next to me, giving me the perfect chance to hit him slightly in the arm, to which he laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not that short, but everybody looks small to you when you’re a freaking giant” I protest, making him laugh even more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I turn my attention to the pan and its content, not wanting to ruin the food only because he’s distracting me. I know his eyes are fixed on me, on what I’m doing, but he doesn’t say anything, as if watching is enough for him. Or just being near.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Honestly, I feel the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re going to be two months staying at home” I say, breaking the silence set between us, but still paying attention to the food. “Are you going to deal well with that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I will probably die if left unsupervised” he replies, which makes me look at him, raising one of my eyebrows. “Too obvious?” he asks then, doing the same with one of his eyebrows as well, making me smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A bit” I reply, turning the stove off finally. “I’m not going to stop coming by, Hen. You’re probably going to get bored of seeing me that much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I highly doubt that” he leans against the counter, resting that way the weight of his body, looking at me with those ocean eyes. “I like having you around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what you say now. Wait until it’s been a whole week. You’ll want to throw me under a bus” I joke, half smiling, fetching some dishes from the cupboard. But Henry doesn’t laugh at it, not even smiles when I look at him. “You know I’m not being serious, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not, but I am” he replies, offering me his free hand, the one that’s not holding the crutch. I leave the dishes on the counter and I go give him a hug, which I know it’s what he really wants. He presses me against his torso, his arm all around my waist, and his cheek against the side of my head. “I really like having you around. The house feels happier when you’re here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still hidden in his embrace, I feel how my cheeks turn red. I sometimes have this worry of being around too much, that he might grow tired of me someday, like Philip did, and then put some distance between us. Hearing him saying that not only makes my stomach jump and my heart beat faster, but also makes me feel a warmth that I hadn’t felt in a long time. The feeling of being at home, really at home, for the first time in this country. I hug him tighter, rubbing my palm up and down his spine, sinking into his scent of sweet chamomile tea, now so much familiar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you I’m not going to stop coming by” I say, still not breaking that hug. “Who else is going to make sure you rest that leg properly?” I look up at him, hoping that my blush has faded somehow. “Listen, I have to go to sort some things out in the gallery later. After that, I can make a stop at my apartment, grab some clothes and come back here, so I can stay for the weekend. How does that sound to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fantastic” he replies, a smile finally blooming on his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. I don’t want you to die because I left you unsupervised” I say, patting his chest softly before finally breaking the hug so I can serve the food. “Now go sit at the table. Food is coming.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m relieved to see that the gallery hasn’t burst into flames in my absence. Not that I was expecting it to, I trust Vesta to take care of everything, but when I’m away, I’m always concerned about not being doing enough. However, it seems that Vesta is handling everything well, and Mellory is a good help, so that leaves me few things to worry about when I get there. I help them to update the list of sold pieces because the software is giving problems, I supervise that the pieces arriving for the new exhibition starting soon are properly stored, and on my way out I take with me a pile of physical portfolios that some artists have been leaving during the week in hopes of probably getting a spot with us and the National Gallery. I’m glad that physical portfolios are still a thing, because emails get lost so easily through your inbox, while these, if properly kept, can be easily found, even when you’re not looking for them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I spend some time taking a look at them when I’m back at Henry’s, while he plays with Kal, the dog pulling one of those rope toys, sitting next to me. It’s difficult to focus like that, but I don’t really mind. It’s a beautiful distraction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you seen anything interesting yet?” he asks, leaning a bit over me to see the one I’m currently looking at, when the dog finally gets tired and goes to lay somewhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really. Maybe I’ll contact a couple of that pile, but not for the exhibition for the National Gallery” I answer, pointing at a small group of portfolios I’ve sorted apart. “Sadly, none of these really fits for what we’re looking for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There are still some more left, maybe you’ll get a surprise” he replies, optimistic, taking one from the pile I haven't seen yet. “This one looks good. What do you think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shows me a piece of paper bended in half, like a pamphlet, with some pictures of the artist’s most relevant pieces and his contact information. There are some paintings using mostly orange and brown colors. I must admit it has an interesting touch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you like this one?” I ask, looking at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I know I don’t know the same as you but this one speaks to me” he explains, which makes me smile fondly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok” I say, leaving the pamphlet in the pile that I will contact in the future. “I’m pretty sure we can make room for him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” he asks, raising his eyebrows in surprise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I like what I’ve seen. You have a good eye” I reply, taking another portfolio.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That leaves in plain view one that catches my attention, a familiar black signature in the white cover of a small catalogue. I take it, knowing beforehand to whom it belongs. I feel how my heartbeats go faster, making that hole in my chest that has been closing for the last month, for the last year and a half, grow bigger. The pictures inside only confirm what I already knew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This must be a joke” I mutter. “It has to be a joke.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m not conscious about how Henry is looking at me right now, but he takes the portfolio from my hands and, after reading the name and confirming from whom it is, slices it in half, throwing the parts over the coffee table. One of his arms hugs me by the waist, and the other puts some strands of my hair that got out of my bun behind my ear. I’m not reacting, still processing what just happened. How. How did he know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, it can be a coincidence” I hear Henry saying in my ear, his lips pressing a soft kiss on the side of my head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course it’s not, Hen” I jump out of the couch, both of my hands pressing my temples. I know he’s only trying to make me feel better, but Henry’s touch right now is overwhelming. Another way for Philip to ruin my existence without even being present. This can’t be fucking happening. “There are no coincidences with him. He found out, somehow.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I believe I’m having a headache right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I feel Henry’s eyes fixed on me, but I’m still turned away, avoiding looking at him. I feel ashamed of being this vulnerable, especially if he’s around. Sure, he’s been there for me when I needed him the most, but when this topic emerges to the surface I just… I can’t. It’s more than I can handle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you need me to do?” I hear his voice asking, after a moment of silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My stomach twists, I feel those butterflies again trying to melt my heart. He’s so good. I don’t deserve him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” I don’t know, I can’t find my voice, nor sort my thoughts. “I need a minute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I take my phone, my coat, and I walk out through the back door, the one in the kitchen. Henry’s yard is dark now, the sun already set, afternoon almost ending. And it’s cold, so cold that I can see my breath. After putting on my coat, I sit on a bench on the back porch, and I look for Nerea’s number while I scratch Kal, who has come to see what is going on, behind his ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey girl, what’s up” Nerea picks the phone up at the second tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s here” I say, almost out of breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s there?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Philip” I answer. “He’s in London, Nerea, I can’t fucking believe he’s here. And he knows about the gallery as well. How the fuck does he know that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My voice is full of panic, almost breaking, but I refuse to cry again because of that piece of shit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I hear Nerea sighing at the other side of the phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably because of your old boss” she answers. “He might have told him what you were doing now. You know how spiteful that old man can be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh yes, I do know. And it makes perfect sense that it was him, if they were working together the last time I went back there. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. I still don’t know what I’m going to do if, someday, he suddenly decides to appear at the gallery. And that’s what I tell to Nerea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess slap him real hard it’s not an option, right?” she asks, making me smile just a bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then stay firm, babe, and get him out of the gallery” she says. “It’s your business, he doesn’t have to be there if you don’t want him to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s easier said than done” I reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not. I believe in you, love, you’re strong enough to do it” she insists.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish you were here with me” I say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, me too, but you know I can’t” she replies. “But you know who is there? Henry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I sigh, rubbing my eyes with the tip of my fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ner…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Arlet, for the love of god, just listen” Nerea interrupts me, not giving me the chance to argue. “He worries about you as much as I do, and probably even more. Jesus Christ, babe, he came all the way here with you when your grandpa died. And I have seen how he holds you, how he looks at you. That man cares about you more than you can imagine, he’s not going to leave, and if you weren’t so scared of letting someone get close, you’ll see that too. Don’t push him away only because your past is haunting you. I don’t want you to be alone forever, love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t know what to say to that. I was already aware about how Henry cares about me, but I don’t believe he does as much as Nerea says. Or I don’t want to believe it, perhaps, because that would mean to open a small window on my wall, a possibility of getting my hopes up and the risk of being completely destroyed as I once was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We end the call a couple of minutes later, and I promise to update her on the coming days of everything that’s going on. I take a minute for myself to calm down and sort my thoughts, and then, I go back inside, followed by Kal. Henry is in the kitchen, cooking something, the crutch leaning against the counter next to him. I leave my coat and my phone aside and I walk until I’m next to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey” I say, my voice way more gentle than before. “What are you doing out of the couch?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dinner” he replies, as if it’s the most obvious thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should be resting” I look at his face, trying to read what’s going on in his head, if I was too harsh on him, or if he’s just worried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can still do things, Let, don’t worry that much” he says. Oddly, that makes me smile. He looks at me and frowns in confusion. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing, is just…” I sigh, then I look at him with affection. “Is just that… that’s what we do. We worry about each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s right” he replies, stopping what he’s doing and turning slightly to the side, facing me. “But I don’t run from you whenever you’re trying to help me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t say it with resentment, nor anger, but I do detect a hint of sadness in his tone, which only makes me feel worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it's not like you can run a lot right now” I joke, trying to take the heat out of the matter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, I know, Hen, I’m sorry” I interrupt him, knowing he’s trying to be serious. I look at him in the eye for the first time since I stormed out before. “I’m sorry. I’m working on it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry looks back at me with an understanding expression and the beginning of a small smile on his lips. Then, opens his arms to me, like asking for permission instead of going for it. I don’t hesitate and I hug him, pushing away all the bad thoughts and memories that try to take control of me at this moment. Henry’s arms close up around me, his embrace protecting me from those. Nerea is right. Henry is right here. He’s with me. He cares.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re important to me, Let, don’t forget that, ok?” he mutters, his lips against my hair and his palm stroking my back in slow movements. “I’m not going to stop worrying about you. You’re my best friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I close my eyes, feeling those butterflies in my stomach again, making the walls around my heart tremble dangerously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re my best friend too, Hen” I reply, my voice being a weak whisper almost buried in his embrace. “I’m sorry if sometimes it doesn’t look like that, but you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s the closest I can say to how I feel about him without openly admitting it. That’s the closest thing to ‘I love you’ I’m brave enough to say out loud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not going to hurt you again” he says, burying his fingers in my hair, tightening his hug. “I’m not going to let him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though, sometimes, I’m dying to let those three words slip from my mouth when he’s with me.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yes, this chapter might have been inspired by the infamous video that recently came out. We all know which one cofcofthunderthighscofcof. </p><p>I decided to base part of it in one of my worst fears, which is driving. I'm terrified of it, for real. And if you make me drive in a foreign country, where everybody drives on the left and everything is at the opposite side of where it should, it's my worst nightmare. I hope that it was something fun for you at least XD</p><p>Link words guide:<br/>-Outfit 1: "long brown jacket still on"<br/>-Hair: "and a messy bun tied up on top of my head"<br/>-Outfit 2: "I dress up again"</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Winter tales and Christmas carols</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The beginning of the winter brings with it more than just snow.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>December arrives, and with it, so does the cold. London soon starts to prepare for Christmas holidays, which characteristic decorations start to pop up in every business, in every corner. Red and green garlands hang in every window, as well as thematic lights; pinecones and pine needles creating seasonal centerpieces with aromatic candles, small bells tied with conspicuous velvet bows, and giant spheres in multiple colors. Some stores already have their Christmas tree, with fake presents under it, and a huge amount of Santas are starting to patrol the streets. Yes, it smells like winter here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the first days of Henry’s injury, he slowly started to be able to walk by himself again. I visited everyday for two weeks, working from his house and helping him with Kal’s needs that he couldn’t take care of, mostly the long walks he can’t do with him for now, but eventually I had to go back to the gallery again. Back to the meetings, the busy ambience, the stress and exhaustion. I love my job, sure, but I’d rather be back at Henry’s place now. At least, fortunately for me, Philip hasn’t shown up again. And Henry, who almost a month after he injured his muscle can now drive his car again, now visits the gallery more often, he says because he wants to help, but I know it’s actually because he feels bored at home with nothing to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m happy that he comes, I like to have him around, and especially now knowing that he won’t leave the city for, at least, another month. Though I’ll be away for a few days because I will spend Christmas Eve and Day at home with my family, I know that, when I’m back, he will be right where I left him. And also, I won’t be leaving him alone either. His family is coming to visit since he can’t travel due to his injury and rehabilitation, so he won’t have time to get bored. He’s actually excited about it. Henry and his brothers don’t have many chances to be reunited all together, and Christmas holidays are the only time of the year they’re able to, usually at his parents’ house in Jersey, and this year, at Henry’s. The last few days he’s been in such a good mood it’s a joy to see him, really happy to get to see his nephews again soon. He’s so happy it’s contagious when he’s around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m only going to be away for a couple of days, but I’m certainly going to miss seeing his smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Today we woke up to a cloudy sky in London. I haven’t gotten used yet to the cold here, way more harsh than it is at home, so I’m really glad to find shelter from the cold wind when I arrive at the gallery. It’s the last day we’ll be open until the end of our small Christmas break. I’m flying tomorrow to Spain and Henry’s family is going to start to arrive this afternoon, so, when noon came, Henry arrived with some pizza and drinks, and we closed early to have a little private celebration, just the four of us.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Vesta and Mellory are finally gone and there’s only the two of us left, we’re sitting next to the big windows, seeing the snow falling outside, covering the street with a white layer, something I’m not used to at all, since in my home city it never snows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Henry asks when I tell him that. “Not even a day or two, during the coldest winter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope” I answer, smiling at his curiosity. “If we wanted to see snow, we had to take the car and go to the mountains, and in my family we weren’t really into long car trips.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, does that mean you have never built a snowman? Nor had a snowball fight?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The closest I’ve had to snow at home have been the ice cubes from my freezer, and the only thing I could do with those is to prepare some delicious </span>
  <em>
    <span>cubalibres</span>
  </em>
  <span>” I answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, when you’re back, we’re going to have a snow day for sure” he promises, with a smile on his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds great” I reply, looking at him with affection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I definitely want to try those </span>
  <em>
    <span>cubalibres</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Deal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gallery feels so quiet today, so peaceful, that it only makes the landscape before us more magical. I feel like I’m living one of those american Christmas movies moments, those that feel so unreal. Which reminds me…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, by the way, I have something for you” I say, getting on my feet to fetch the little fancy red bag I have hidden under my desk. I sit again on the floor, next to Henry, but before I hand the bag to him, I give him a warning look. “But don’t open it now. Put it under your tree tomorrow night, so you can open it on Christmas Day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry smiles, both surprised and amused by my attitude, but finally nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, I won’t open it until Christmas” he says, extending his hand towards me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Promise me” I insist, which makes him laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I hand him the bag and he doesn’t even peek inside with curiosity, only leaves it next to him. Then, he gets on his feet as well, making me frown in confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Did you think you were the only one who got presents?” he says when he notices my expression, a mischievous grin on his lips, and then goes straight to the hidden office. He comes back with another bag, a bit bigger than mine, plain white with a small, golden bow in one of the handles. He kneels next to me, hands me the bag and proceeds to sit again. “But if I can’t open it now, you can’t either. You will have to take it with you on the plane and open it with your family.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That makes me smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It will be nice to have something from you while I’m there” I say, leaving my bag aside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When I look back at Henry, he’s staring at me, thoroughly, as if he’s trying to make a picture of this moment. Then, he passes an arm over my shoulders, so I just rest my head on him, and we both continue watching the snow falling outside, enjoying our last few moments of peace together before we’re countries away, even if it’s only for a few days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next day, I wake up early so I can go to the airport with enough time, being sure that it’s going to be crowded due to the special date. After a warm shower and getting dressed, I make sure I have everything I need in my bag, including Henry’s present. True to my promise, I haven’t opened it yet. The content will remain a mystery until tomorrow morning, when I finally can open it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I grab my keys and my phone, checking it before opening the door. And then I see the text.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on. Are you fucking kidding me?” I say out loud to myself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flight canceled? This has to be a joke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean I can’t fly today?!” I ask the woman on the other side of the phone after several minutes of waiting and when I finally get to communicate with a human being and not a machine. “There needs to be a way, maybe another airport.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ma’am, I’m afraid all six airports are cancelling their flights due to the snow storm, and they won’t be operative until it’s safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And when that will be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It might take days. Days. Great. Fucking great. I’m pretty sure the woman has had to deal with calls like this since all the chaos started, and I try to remind myself of that, because she’s not responsible for a snow storm. However, I’m not any less pissed when I finally end the call. It’s Christmas Eve and I’m stuck in London, without any possibility to leave in days and not able to see my family for Christmas. Fucking fantastic. It’s not going to be a happy call to my parents.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, in fact, it isn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My mom yelling at the other side of the phone that I have to go, that I can’t miss Christmas with them, and me yelling back as well here, trying to explain to her for the billionth time that it’s not my fault that there’s a snow storm and flights are cancelled, as if I wasn’t feeling guilty enough. When she’s done yelling at me, it’s my dad who takes the phone. I explain the same to him in a more calmed tone, and he understands, telling me that he will calm mom down and bring her to her senses. When I finally hang up, I’m exhausted, laying on my couch, frustrated and not knowing what to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I notice then that I have a text from Henry that might have arrived while I was arguing through the phone with my family of lunatics.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you been able to fly?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I guess it must be on the news or something that airports have been closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Gonna be stuck here”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes him seconds to call me, which means he probably was waiting for my response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey” his voice sounds like music to me right now. I don’t know how he does it, but Henry always makes me feel better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey” I say in a pitiful tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you?” he asks, though he already might know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m pissed” I answer. “And I’m sad. And also mad at my mom but that will last short anyway. How did you find out about the airports?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I hear him sigh on the other side of the phone. I can’t see him but I can easily tell that he must be pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because my family’s flights got delayed yesterday, and finally cancelled today because of the snow storm” he says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah” he replies. “I remembered you were flying today as well, so I had to ask.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry, Hen, you were really happy about having your family there” I say, as I remember him being all excited and smiley while walking around the gallery, talking about seeing his nephews.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s ok. I’m sorry you have to spend your Christmas away from your family too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I don’t have any decorations here, so if I try really hard I can just pretend it’s another weekend” I joke, not really sure if I want to laugh or cry at that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His soft laugh makes everything feel better, warm and cozy, and I wish I could see him smiling right now. His smile fixes every problem.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I’m thinking…” he says after a brief pause. “Since we’re both going to be alone, do you want me to pick you up and spend Christmas here together?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I can’t help a soft smile. After all the time we’ve spent together, I know him pretty well by now, and yet he still manages to give me nice surprises when I least expect it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds good to me” I reply. “Is the road good enough to drive though?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last thing I want now is that he gets stuck in his car coming here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about that” he says, which tells me that the answer to my question is more like a ‘no’, but he’s going to come anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be careful, please” I say, knowing that there is no point in trying to talk him out of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I always am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And with that, the day just turns better. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes him a bit longer than usual to get here, but when I finally get his text telling me he’s waiting for me, I put on my coat, grab the bag I was going to take with me to the airport, and I leave, ready and excited to meet him. The cold breeze greets me once I set a foot on the street, making me shiver and piercing me to the bone. The pavement is covered in white, while the road remains more or less clear for now, allowing cars to transit. I spot Henry’s car and I quickly find my way to it, rushing inside, running from the cold. I've only been in the street for a brief moment, but that was enough to make my cheeks and the tip of my nose red, and to leave some snow drops stuck in strands of my loose hair. From the driver’s seat, Henry looks at me with a warm smile on his face, a smile I didn’t expect to see today and it’s extremely wonderful that it ended up being otherwise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ride back to his place is slow and safe. Henry’s driving skills never cease to amaze me. Even with the worst weather, he always manages to look confident and calm, knowing what he’s doing. We manage to arrive at his place just in time, because the storm is starting to turn even nastier. I’m still shivering even when we’re finally inside, so used to my city’s winters that I’m clearly not prepared for the cold of London, but this time, I’m not the only one. The heating he already has working helps to warm us, but not much, so he starts to light the fireplace while I sit on the couch, petting Kal as I see him work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d thought you would have some decorations on, Hen” I comment, after noticing the house looks the same as always, except for the christmas tree on the corner, still naked, waiting for some color and lights to be put on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I was waiting to put them on with my nephews, I thought it would be something fun to do with them” he says, not looking in my direction, apparently completely focused on what he’s doing, but I know he’s trying to hide he’s sad about it. “But now… I don’t know. It doesn’t feel the same.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He once told me I make the house feel happier to him. Let’s see if I can honor that statement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can put them on together” I suggest, leaning forward on my seat. “I know I’m not your nephews, but I bet it can keep us entertained for a while. And it will feel more like Christmas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, he turns his head to me, half a smile on his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to?” he asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah!” I exclaim, getting out of the couch and kneeling next to him by the fireplace, poking him with my elbow. “Come on, Cavill, it’s Christmas! We should have fun!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, ok” he replies, half laughing after seeing my enthusiasm. “Let me finish this first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I watch thoroughly how he sets the wood and tries to light it. He has his sleeves rolled up, as he always does when he's focused on a task, leaving on plain view his strong arms, product of the hard workout he's been keeping for years, that I know are able to hold me so tightly, and yet so gently, as they have done so many times. It takes him a couple of tries, but at the third one it seems like the fire finally starts to catch on the wood properly, and we call that a victory. Henry gets on his feet, rubbing his palms against his trousers to get rid of the dirt, and then helps me too, his hands firmly grabbing mine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want to start with? The tree?” he asks, giggling when I instantly nod at that. “Ok, let’s see…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leans over a couple of boxes next to the tree and, after inspecting them, picks one. Inside, a lot of spheres of different sizes and colors, mostly silver, red and golden, mixed with several garlands, lights, rattles, pinecone ornaments, and velvet bows. Seeing such a mess, I raise one of my eyebrows at Henry, who now scratches the back of his head looking at the box.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus Christ, Hen, you should store this properly after each Christmas” I say, trying not to laugh at the face he’s making right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you really think I have time for that?” he protests, laughing with me when I can’t help myself anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I help him to sort the content of the box, or at least, sort it enough so he can take the lights and the garlands out without breaking anything. While Henry is busy untangling the knot of christmas lights, I take out some of the spherical ornaments and I start to put them on the tree, with Kal next to me, very attentive to what I’m doing, I even let him pick which ball I should put next a couple of times. For a while, I forget that I should be by now arriving at home, surrounded by family, probably because right now, with Henry and Kal by only company, I can feel myself at home as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When I lean over the box again to fetch more ornaments after placing the last one Kal pointed to me with his nose, I notice that Henry was looking at us with a smile full of affection. Pretending I didn’t see it, I rummage through the mess of decorations, trying to hide the pink of a blush that has started to appear on my cheeks, as he finally has managed to unravel the lights and walks towards the tree, ready to place them on the branches. I find then something worth of my attention. Reindeer antlers. As if the universe was trying to tell me something, Kal sits next to me just now, curiously looking at the content of the box, and I know exactly what to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Hen” I call him a moment later. “You didn’t tell me you had little Rudolph at home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have what?” Henry, finishing just now with the lights, frowns in confusion. When he turns and finds Kal wearing the antlers, tilting his big puppy head looking at his owner, Henry smiles in surprise, showing his pointy fangs. “Look at you bud, you’re only missing the red nose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kal barks in response, wagging his tail happily, and walks around the living room, still with the antlers on. Henry watches, amused, how the dog doesn’t seem bothered by it at all, even looks happy to be the center of attention. His joyful smile is for me a desired prize I want to get over and over again, and what makes me want to do even the tiniest things to make it bloom on his lips, especially the times I know he feels a bit sad, like today. I know he misses being with his family, as so do I, but I plan to make today as special as I can, for him, and for myself too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry finally plugs the lights, and the tree now </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> looks festive. That kind of spectacle of lights and color all mixed together instantly submerges the room in a festive ambience that it didn't have before. I smile at Henry, who's already looking at me with that look full of affection that I wished he only had for me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You should see your face right now" he says, still with his blue eyes fixed on me. "You look like a kid on Christmas morning."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Look who's talking" I reply, walking the few steps that separate me from him. "You saw Kal with antlers and you instantly forgot what you were doing."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, so I'm a kid now, huh?" he asks with a mischievous smirk on his lips. "Then I’m claiming to place the star on the top."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he rushes towards the box and starts looking for it, leaving me little time to react.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey! That's not fair! Good kids have to share!" I protest, half laughing, joining him on the search for the star. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, he finds it first and walks backwards towards the tree with it, hiding his hands behind his back, still with that triumphant grin on his face. I take a couple of steps forward, trying to make the puppy eyes that always work so well for him, and when I'm close enough, I try to grab the star from his hands, but failing on the attempt, since he's faster than me and raises it in his fist way above my head, laughing as he does it. But Henry is magnanimous in victory and ends up lowering his arm, offering the piece to me, his lips still with the brightest smile. I place my hand over the golden ornament, an eight-pointed star not too big, discreet but elegant. Our fingers touch for longer than necessary, an infinite caress that none of us seems to want to end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good kids share, don’t they?” he says, walking a step closer to me, his other hand putting some strands of my hair behind my ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They do” I reply, looking up at him to meet his eyes. “Wanna help me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As an answer, he takes my wrist, pulling me closer to him, his free hand delicately landing on my hip as he makes me turn towards the spruce, and guides my hand to the top. Together, we place the star there, finishing that way with the decoration of the christmas tree. I rest my back against his chest as we take a few steps back, contemplating our job. Both of his arms embrace me, surrounding my waist, as his chin gently lays on top of my head. I stroke the hairy surface of the skin of his arm with the tip of my fingers, and I feel how his hug tightens slightly, his warmth welcoming me as so many times before, calling me home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I have that feeling, the certainty that it’s here where I’m supposed to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After putting the presents we exchanged yesterday under the tree, ready for later, we hang garlands here and there all around the place. Now it really looks like Christmas inside the house. Henry looks to be in a better mood than he was before, the shadow of sadness on him now gone, and I know I’ve done a good job. We have a quick and improvised lunch and a well deserved rest after it, watching whatever special seasonal movie are playing on tv now, during which I might have taken a small nap with Henry holding me without realizing. In my defense I can only say that I woke up really early today and that Henry’s arms are warm and cozy. Luckily, I was only asleep for half an hour, not enough to embarrass myself too much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the rest of the afternoon, we cook. We start baking some cookies, which ends up with both of us stained with raw cookie dough because </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone</span>
  </em>
  <span> -him- had to start a ‘I’m gonna put some dough on her nose and see what happens’ situation. I can be very combative if provoked, so that’s where the mess started. However, we laughed so much I still feel my cheeks hurting. And of course, since it’s Christmas Eve, we also prepare a fancy dinner, but for two, instead of the usual feast for a whole family. While we’re at it, we’re interrupted several times by calls from our respective families, checking on us and wishing us a happy night. Each of us searches for a bit of privacy for the calls, so I don’t know how Henry’s went, but I can tell when he’s back that he’s in his weird mood again, so I do what I do best and I hug him tightly, his arms embracing me as well, burying his fingers in my hair. Today he smells like wood and also cookies, but underneath those christmas scents, there’s also his usual one that I know so well by now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You good?” I ask, while we’re still wrapped in each other’s embrace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now I am” he mutters with his lips against my hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a couple of minutes, we remain like that, as I let him take all the time he needs to be himself again. And when he finally looks like he’s doing better, we go back to cook.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s late night, we’re in our respective pajamas just chilling on the couch, enjoying the warmth coming from the fireplace while watching the end of another episode of The Walking Dead because we’re a bit fed up with those Christmas movies that are on tv and wanted to see something different. We’re placed like we were after lunch: Henry half sitting, half lying, with me using his chest as my pillow as I lay along the couch with his arms holding me, one of his hands gently stroking my hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you still awake or did you fall asleep again?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m awake” I reply, blushing slightly. “So you noticed my shame before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That makes him laugh, his arms tightening around me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no shame in being tired” he says. For a second, it seems like he’s going to add something else, but thinks better about it and doesn’t say it. Instead, he turns off the tv when the episode is finally over and asks: “Wanna see what’s under the tree? What do you say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure” I answer, stretching my back before finally getting out of the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We kneel in front of the tree. Kal, who has been sleeping peacefully in his bed, near the fireplace, lifts one of his ears while looking at us, but going back to his slumber shortly after. For each of us, there are three gifts in two different piles, which I find funny because we didn’t arrange something like that, and still got the same number of presents for each other. I take one of mine and Henry one of his, and we start unwrapping them at the same time. I have in my hands an envelope, inside which I find a card saying that a generous donation was made in my name to the Louvre museum in Paris. The amount donated is incredible, and I look at Henry with wide open eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I actually wanted to take you there” he explains, as if it would make more sense with that statement. “But since I don’t know when I’ll be able to travel, and how my agenda will be for then, I thought this might be a good start.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You say it as if this isn’t crazy enough” I say, still stunned by the high amount that says on the paper. “It’s amazing Hen, thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I sit closer to him and I give him a one-arm hug while I still hold the card with the other one. Henry’s palm strokes my back gently, and then goes back to finish unwrapping his first present. It’s a beanie, like the ones I’ve seen him wearing sometimes, but this one from his rugby team, which brings a new smile to his face when he sees it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second one of mine is a small jewellery box, which doesn’t leave much room for imagination, but is still a nice surprise when I open it and find the beautiful <a href="https://i.pinimg.com/564x/7f/c9/27/7fc9274c6ff7af644a79ad915c3f78a5.jpg">bracelet</a> in it, a thin silver chain with two small gems as a central piece. I ask Henry to help me put it on, despite being in my pajamas. In the same hand where I’m still wearing Henry’s ring, now I have this fine piece of jewellery that, even being so simple in design, it’s really hard to stop looking at. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Henry finally finishes opening his second package, there’s a warm smile that goes up to his eyes as well. In his hands, a framed picture of him, Kal and myself, from one of our adventure days outside in the fields. His eyes are stuck in the pic for a moment, looking thoroughly at each one of our faces, the same way I can’t stop looking at him right now, until he finally looks back at me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did you know this was my favorite?” he asks, still in surprise, to which I shrug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A woman has her secrets” I answer, smiling and winking at him with affection. “Come on, open the last one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaves the picture gently on the floor, still looking at it in a way I didn’t anticipate when I first planned the gift, and he takes the last present. A square box, pretty similar to the one that had my bracelet in it, but a bit bigger. After removing the paper and opening it, he finds a <a href="https://i.pinimg.com/564x/c7/a1/c8/c7a1c80dfe4dadb6fa69615fdb5a4538.jpg">watch</a> inside, more simple and definitely less expensive than the ones he uses to wear, but still a fine quality one. I’ve been saving for it since we came back from the funeral from my grandfather, determined to gift him something nice, and it’s now paying up by seeing his face, eyebrows slightly lifted in surprise, and eyes completely focused on the details of the watch. The sphere is blue with a silver frame, and the strap is made from a high quality brown vegan leather. Henry takes it out of the box to examine it closely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s an inscription in the back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raising an eyebrow and looking briefly at me when I tell him, he turns the watch over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Moments with you,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he reads out loud, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s when I wish I could stop time.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He makes a pause, eyes still fixed on the back of the watch, as if he’s reading the inscription again, and again. I wait, starting to get a bit nervous. Maybe the inscription was too much. Then, his blue gaze comes back to me again, a look full of emotions I can’t even start to describe. “Let…” he starts, still struggling to find the words. He sighs, staring briefly at the watch again, and then at me. “I wish I could too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Henry pulls me towards him and hugs me tightly, his arms holding me as they have done dozens of times, his hands stroking my hair in a familiar touch, but with my ear resting so close to his chest I can hear his heart beating wildly, as I’ve never heard it before. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Moments with you, that’s when I wish I could stop time.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Because there’s not enough time in this life, in a thousand lives, that feels enough for me to be with you, Hen. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But I’m too coward to tell him all of that, so, for now, the first sentence will do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man finally lets me go after placing a soft kiss on top of my head, and urges me to open my last present while closing the strap of the watch around his wrist. I take the package, bigger than the other ones, and I make myself comfortable leaning against him, with one of his arms around my waist and his head resting over mine as I unwrap the last one of the presents, revealing a book cover in a deep marine blue with golden filigranes decorating it. I recognise it as a fancy edition of one of my favorite books, Wuthering Heights. I remember mentioning the book to Henry like once, one of those bits of conversation that can easily get lost and forgotten.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You remembered it” I mutter, a distracted smile on my lips as I caress the cover of the book with the tip of my fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I did” he replies, as if it wasn’t a big thing. “Do you think I don’t pay attention when you talk?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I know that he’s joking and that he’s not expecting an answer, but the truth is that, sometimes, I’m worried that he suddenly loses his interest in me. However, Henry has always outdone himself proving time after time that he cares, and I’m holding a proof of that in my hands right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you read for me?” I ask him, tilting my head so I can look at his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was going to ask you to do the same, actually” Henry replies, half smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One chapter you, one me, please” I insist, pouting a little while giving him the puppy eyes, making him giggle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure. Let’s get comfy first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We gather some pillows and blankets and we make ourselves a cozy spot in front of the fireplace. Henry leaves for me the nearest side to the fire so I don’t get cold, and lays next to me, finding himself a comfortable posture to read, his head over two pillows. I pull myself closer to him, resting my head in the space between his shoulder and his chest, and Henry’s arm instantly surrounds my waist, making me feel completely in heaven. When he starts to read, his low voice slides from his mouth and fills the room, a liquid sound that comes to me and warms me up more than the flames itselves coming from the fireplace behind me. I drink from the words coming from his lips as I would drink from a glass of water on a hot summer day. His voice has a color and it’s golden. I could describe it in a million ways and I still wouldn’t be accurate enough to reality. I will never be able to put into words how his voice makes me feel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, he finishes the chapter, and then my turn comes. I read out loud for Henry, though I’m pretty sure that not as well as him, but his attention is all mine right now. Chapter after chapter, the book keeps changing hands, from mine to his, from his to mine. And when our bodies start to get a bit sore, we turn to the side, with him being the big spoon, as we keep reading. During his turns, he recites with his head peeking over my shoulder, looking at the book in my hands, and his voice sounds now so close to my ear it’s becoming really hard to ignore the warmth growing inside me, especially when I can feel his body perfectly fitting against mine, like we are right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>...so he shall never know how I love him;</span>
  </em>
  <span>” I read, feeling the weight of exhaustion now heavier than when we started the reading. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>and that not because he’s handsome, Nelly, but because he’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I let go a yawn before I’m even aware of it. We’ve gone through almost half of the book already, so it must be pretty late. When I stare at the same point of the page for a couple of minutes wondering where to keep reading, Henry delicately takes the tome from my hands and places it aside, concluding like that our reading session. I let him do without any resistance, since I know I’m more asleep than awake right now. It’s warm here, I’m comfy with the sound of the flames clacking in the fireplace and the warmth of Henry’s body behind me. His arm curls around my waist, his thumb gently caressing my tummy. Apparently, he must think the same, because he doesn’t look like he’s planning to move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You ok like this?” he asks, almost in a whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t bother to answer with words, more like an affirmative sound comes from my throat, with a slight nod that I don’t know if he’s aware of. I feel his lips kissing my shoulder and then his head lying behind mine, on the same pillow. The last night we slept this close we were in Spain, the day of the funeral, and I have to admit it feels comforting to have him like this again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last thing I hear before falling asleep is a soft “good night Let” in my ear, and right now, in the comfort of his arms, with his scent being practically a part of me as well, feeling the safest I’ve ever felt in a long time, I wish I could stop time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The morning finds us just like that. It’s quiet, the fire has slowly extinguished during the night and the room is a bit cold, but with Henry’s warmth and the blankets, it feels just fine. At some point, our hands found each other during our slumber, and I know he’s awake because his thumb is gently stroking the back of my palm in slow circles. I lazily turn around, searching for a new posture. I had forgotten how close we were until I find his nose almost touching mine. Like this, I can perfectly see the soft path of freckles that crosses his nose bridge, and also that stain of brown in his left iris that is really difficult to see unless you're paying attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hello" he gives me a sleepy smile when he sees me this close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hello" I mutter, dazzled by his gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s like the rest of the world stops just for us. All my worries, my fears, they don’t exist in this moment, frozen in time, only the blue of his eyes, his heart and mine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I could get used to waking up like this every morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand moves from my waist to my hair, burying his fingers in it, in a contact that gives me goosebumps. We’re so close, so ridiculously close, I could kiss him without barely trying. And for an instant, I think about giving in and doing it. Seems like the right moment, the right place. Why shouldn’t I?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of paws approaches us, and a moment later we have Kal over us, wishing us a good morning in his particular way, licking both of us. Henry turns and lays on his back, receiving most of Kal’s attention and kisses, his soft laugh filling the room, and I know that my chance got lost just like that. Maybe for the best. I don’t want a bad decision to ruin my friendship with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I decide to get on my feet and go to the bathroom to wash my face and get rid of the remains of slumber that might still be in my head. A new day starts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After getting dressed, lighting again the fireplace, and making ourselves some coffee, we’re sitting at the kitchen table, with a mug between my hands, warming them with the hot beverage while contemplating the white landscape that is now his yard. Yesterday it didn’t stop snowing, and today, for a change, it’s a bright sunny day, which only intensifies the white of the snow. I’ve only seen a day like this in the movies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someone is going to be so happy today” Henry says, looking in the same direction as me. “You love the snow, right buddy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he pats Kal’s head, who wags his tail so happily, as if he knows what Henry is saying. I smile, looking at the dog. These two really are best friends. Their relationship is pure love, simple and truthful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two days ago, Henry promised me a snow day, though none of us suspected that day would be today. With our coats and hats on, and without having to get out of his yard, we build my first snowman, one really big, not Henry’s size, more like my size, but still big enough to have us occupied for a while, with Kal jumping and rolling over the snowbanks that formed during the night. There’s a moment in which Henry is distracted watching his dog just being the happy ball of hair that he is, so I decide to take the chance and throw him a snowball, starting like that a fierce combat between the two of us, two competitive bastards that won’t hesitate in play dirty if we have to, especially Henry, who pretends to be hurt in his bad leg, so I obviously stop everything and go see if he’s ok, to find myself with a bunch of snow suddenly dropped over my head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the worst cheater ever, Henry” I protest, after shaking the snow out of me, with Henry still laughing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, I would be dumb if I didn’t take advantage of it from time to time” he replies, helping me to remove the last bits of snow that remain on my beanie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but that was mean” I’m obviously not being serious, but I want to make him feel bad about it. “What if I did the same to you?” I ask, looking up at his face, so close to mine right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t fall for it, I’m not as innocent” he says, all cocky, with that grin he has when he’s enjoying the provocation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, if you saw me falling out of nothing and I suddenly yelled in pain because I hurt my ankle, are you saying that you wouldn’t come to check if I’m alright?” I ask in a softer, more innocent voice, stepping closer, my eyes never leaving his. I see how his smile fades a little, his Adam’s Apple move as he swallows. I make a sad face before adding: “Do I mean that little to you, Hen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know that’s not true” he mutters, distracted by my proximity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I can’t help a big smile, having him right where I wanted him, as I smack a bunch of snow on his face, bursting into laughter. Henry shakes the snow out of him, blinking in confusion, as I try to run away from him, escaping from his revenge. It doesn’t take long for him to take me down and we both fall over the snow, laughing until our lungs hurt. I roll however I can to hug him, his arms doing the same and shielding me from the cold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t be running like that” I say, after I’ve recovered my breath. “Or it’s gonna take longer for your leg to heal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, look at you, still worrying” he says, half provoking me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah” I reply. “I worry, I’m a good person, sue me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry chuckles and places a soft kiss on top of my head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like you the way you are” he says, not joking this time. “I like that you worry, because that shows that you care. And you’re as stubborn as I am on that matter, so I know what I’m talking about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m glad he can’t see that I’m blushing right now, or I would be if my cheeks weren’t already red due to the cold and the run. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When we start to feel the cold, we get on our feet again and go back inside, ready to warm ourselves up next to the fireplace. With his bracelet still on my wrist, his arm over my shoulders as we finish reading the book he gifted me last night, I find myself enjoying a happiness I thought I would never feel again. This is a Christmas Day I didn’t imagine I would ever have, but Henry, responsible for most of the good things happening in my life right now, can make possible even the moments I could only dare to dream about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why wouldn’t he be the one who can make me trust in love again?</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sometimes I find myself wanting to fall into my own kiss-thirst traps. This chapter made it really difficult, I swear.</p><p>Also: KAL WITH ANTLERS!</p><p>Link words guide:<br/>Bracelet: "and find the beautiful bracelet in it"<br/>Watch: "he finds a watch inside"</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Countdown till midnight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's New Year's Eve, and what a better way to celebrate it than a party with friends?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So, you’re asking me to go with you?” I ask Henry as he follows me around the gallery while I try to find which one of the ‘Untitled’ pieces is the one we sold, because Mellory forgot to add the details to the catalogue sheet and we have several unnamed pieces because some artists are just lazy when it comes to titles. </p><p>The sound of my white heels echoes around the second floor of the gallery as I walk, his steps following me not too far. Despite the cold, <a href="https://i.pinimg.com/564x/54/64/4e/54644ef3083dd90c4eec3b3eff263de3.jpg">I’ve picked for today</a> a long skirt, but with a cozy and warm sweater, both more or less of the same cream color. Henry is wearing one of his rugby hoodies, and on top, a black coat to protect him from the cold wind outside that he hasn’t taken off yet.</p><p>“Unless you have plans already” he answers, his hands inside the pockets of his coat, and his wild curl falling over his forehead, dancing with every step he makes.</p><p>The truth is, I didn’t think about New Year’s Eve at all, mostly because I usually party with my friends that night and, since this year that’s not going to be possible, my mind directly decided to erase that night out of my calendar, and I totally forgot about the possibility of making any other plan. Going out sounds nice, but what Henry is inviting me to is to a party at someone else’s house, which makes me a bit nervous, especially when I know his friends only from a couple of times.</p><p>“I don’t have any” I admit, stopping in front of a painting, examining the label and checking my papers. No, it’s not this one. “Will your friends be ok with me coming, though?”</p><p>“Yeah, of course. Everybody likes you. They would be crazy if they didn’t” Henry sounds determined to make me go with him, and god bless him for that, because he manages to make me smile in this stressful morning. “And you like them too, if I’m not wrong.”</p><p>“You’re not” I reply, starting to walk towards the next piece, Henry still following me closely. “Ok, I’ll go. It will be nice to see them again. It’s been a while since the last time.”</p><p>It’s not a hard decision to make. I like his friends, it sounds like a good plan, and it’ll be great to have a good party after so much time. Of course, spending more time with him is always a good incentive. </p><p>“Nice! The girls will be happy to know you’re coming” he says, notably happier now that he knows I’ll go. </p><p>“I like the girls. Nicole knows how to prepare good margaritas.”</p><p>“And I like how gigglish you become after some margaritas.”</p><p>I look at him, raising an eyebrow and trying to keep a severe expression that doesn’t last long until a smile finally comes to my lips. He’s being such a teaser lately, but today more than usual, with that cocky grin and that provocative gaze, and I can tell he’s trying to get a reaction from me.</p><p>“Can you let me do my work, please?” I ask, not acknowledging out loud the truth behind his affirmation. “Unlike some, I still have things that require my attention.”</p><p>But the truth is, I really like having him sidetracking me from what I should be doing.</p><p>“I’m sorry, am I distracting you?” he says, now playing the innocent as he steps right behind me and peeks his head over my shoulders to look at my papers, invading shamelessly my personal space. That mischievous bastard.</p><p>“You are” I reply, and then I flick him on the forehead, making him groan in protest and a smile bloom in my lips. His hands then land on my waist and he tries to tickle me in revenge, to which I try to run from. “Stop it! Henry” I protest in a not so subtle whisper. I try to hold my laugh and I finally get away from his hands, putting my skirt and my sweater properly. “What’s going on with you today?”</p><p>“Nothing, I’m just happy, that’s all” he answers, still grinning, clearly satisfied with the effect he had on me. </p><p>“Then you’re really ‘happy’ lately” I reply, still smiling, after I’ve put some strands of my hair back on my bun.</p><p>“I wonder why.”</p><p>And he just stares at me, as if I knew the answer.</p><p>The 31st comes a couple of days later. Henry told me it wasn’t a formal party, so I’m wearing <a href="https://i.pinimg.com/564x/da/a0/77/daa0773b3b4574ea4f1257228e941585.jpg">something casual</a> for the occasion, a <a href="https://i.pinimg.com/564x/d9/b6/e6/d9b6e60f1bd8841134bebebad207c6ae.jpg">navy blue sweater</a> over a blouse, some jeans and my grey coat. As for my hair, just tied in a <a href="https://i.pinimg.com/564x/9d/96/1a/9d961a8bc1352c284b63482c9a317eef.jpg">low wavy ponytail</a>. But what I can’t miss wearing not a single day since I had it is the new bracelet that now shines on my wrist, as well as Henry’s gold ring, and the necklace he got me for my birthday, two pieces that I never get tired of wearing everyday.</p><p>True to his word, Henry picks me up at my apartment, and when I get inside the car, the first thing I notice is that we’re wearing a sweater of the same color. As if rumours of him having a girlfriend weren’t enough, we’re matching outfits today. Thank god the party is in a private house.</p><p>Then, when I see his watch, his hand resting on the gearshift, I know why he picked that color, and I can’t help a smile.</p><p>Turns out Henry’s friend and his wife don’t live in London, but in a nearby town, in a country house located in the suburbs. It’s a really nice two-story house, ideal for a family, and big enough to fit a small party in it, like today. Part of the guests are now in the living room, talking and having a drink. The stance is big, with three big grey sofas surrounding a square coffee table, and a big flat tv hangs on the wall, showing one of those yearly summaries that nobody is currently paying attention to. I recognize most of the faces from the times Henry has invited his friends at home, and the ones I don’t, I can guess are other friends from the couple that invited us. Nicole and Sarah come to greet us when they notice we’ve arrived, as well as Eric, the friend responsible for Henry and I meeting for the first time in my old gallery, and Freddie, the owner of the house and one of our hosts. We’re just finishing removing our coats when the first ones arrive.</p><p>“Arlet! It’s so nice to see you here!” Nicole exclaims. She reminds me of Nerea in some aspects, though my bestie is irreplaceable, of course. She has long, dark brown, straight hair, more or less of my height, and kind of brown, kind of green eyes. “Did this troublemaker insist on you too much?”</p><p>“Only the necessary” I answer, smiling at Henry, who’s pretending to be offended. </p><p>“What are you insinuating, Nicole?” he asks, scandalized. </p><p>“I’m pretty sure you know” she replies, clearly following his game. “Hey, Arlet, come to the kitchen. It’s where we have the margaritas” she says the last sentence almost singing and it makes me laugh. </p><p>I smile at Henry before she and Sarah pull from me to the other room. There, we join the rest of the girls, all of them with a cup on their hands already, talking and laughing, and cheering when they see us coming. They introduce me to the few new faces that I don’t know, and it doesn’t take long for them to put a margarita cup in my hand, making me remember Henry’s comment about how giggly I become after a couple of those.</p><p>There’s a moment in which I hold my margarita with the hand I’m wearing the gold ring from Henry, and that makes both Nicole and Sarah, the ones I was currently talking to at the moment, to exchange a look and discreetly take me apart of the group. I’m clueless at first as to why they don’t want to talk about whatever it is in front of the others, but I follow their lead, curious. When we’re far enough, Nicole takes my hand and raises it enough so only the three of us see the ring.</p><p>“Is this the one from Henry?” Nicole asks in a whisper, making me wonder why so much secrecy. </p><p>“Yeah” I answer, more and more confused every minute. “He lent it to me months ago.”</p><p>Nicole and Sarah exchange another look and a brief smile, and then, the first one lets go of my hand. </p><p>“He hasn’t lent it to anyone, never” Nicole says, still with a tender smile on her lips. “Not even to Phinn.”</p><p>“Who’s Phinn?” I ask.</p><p>“Josephine” Sarah answers the question, still in a low voice, checking if anyone else is listening. “Henry’s former fiancée.”</p><p>Oh.</p><p><em> Oh </em>.</p><p>“You say he didn’t lend it even to his former fiancée?” I ask out of incredulity, still trying to keep my voice as low as possible.</p><p>Nicole shakes his head, and Sarah's smile grows wider.</p><p>“Listen, all of us like you” Nicole says. “But there are some people here that are still being friends of hers, so maybe don’t show off the ring too much.”</p><p>I look at it again, the golden treasure Henry trusted me so long ago, now making that vow of trust even more meaningful, and I nod. </p><p>“May I ask you two a question?” I say, before we conclude the conversation.</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>“What do you think about her now?” I ask, not sure if I want to know the answer to that. “About Phinn.”</p><p>Both Nicole and Sarah let go a deep sigh, which gives me a hint about their thoughts.</p><p>“Phinn really left him in shambles when she left” Sarah says, her arms crossed over her chest. “For what I care, she can go to hell.”</p><p>“At that moment we thought she was the right one” Nicole says, shrugging. “We don’t get in the middle of Henry’s romantic life. What he chooses to do or not do it’s up to him, he’s a grown man. But what he went through after that…” she crosses her arms over her chest as well and bites her lower lip. “I haven’t forgiven it yet.”</p><p>I nod, understanding. I don’t think I wouldn’t have either, being in their place. I don’t know that woman personally, but if Henry loved her in the past, she must have been amazing enough to have gotten his attention, and kind and nice enough to have gotten his heart. It’s difficult for me to portray someone like that leaving him the way she did, but I guess we all have our ghosts.</p><p>When we go back to the group, I remain quiet, thinking about what I just learned. I knew the ring was very important to Henry, but knowing that he never let anyone borrow it before, not even the woman he was about to marry, makes me feel a bit uneasy. Henry is trusting me something that he never trusted anyone else before, and I can’t stop asking myself why. Why me? What makes me so special?</p><p>After finishing the first margarita, and yes, I’m counting my drinks tonight, some of the girls and I go back to the living room. It doesn’t take me much to spot Henry. He’s in a corner talking to Eric, beer in his hand, smile on his lips. The usual happy Henry that I love to see. When I start to approach them, Henry’s eyes instantly notice me and he waves, gesturing for me to go. I feel something warm inside when our eyes meet, something that I’m more aware of now. I arrive to his side and he instantly puts his arm over my shoulder, pulling me close, and that warmth inside me grows. </p><p>“This woman made it, all by herself” Henry says, proudly. “The collaboration with the National Gallery it’s all her work.”</p><p>I blush, not really sure why, if it’s because of his proximity or because of his words, but definitely the latest gives me a good excuse for it.</p><p>“Oh, really?” his friend asks, visibly interested. “It’s amazing, even more having in mind you’ve been open… half a year now?”</p><p>“Yeah, more or less” I answer. To be honest, I don’t know how this half year went by so fast.</p><p>Someone else calls Henry, and he leaves Eric and I talking about the gallery, and then about art. I remember seeing him at the opening party, but I believe that’s the only time we met, and we didn’t have much time for talking back then, so the conversation keeps going and going for a while. He seems like a nice guy with good taste, and I promise him to include him in the collectors newsletter for when new pieces come to us. </p><p>“You know, I didn’t think I would see Henry so invested in contemporary art as he is now” Eric tells me.</p><p>“He’s being very helpful” I reply. “And he has better taste than he gives himself credit for.”</p><p>“He has always had a good instinct” the man says. “I’m pretty sure that’s why he decided to give you the money in the first place.”</p><p>I smile, grateful, and I nod. Yes, it was Henry who gave me the money to start a new life here, but I don’t forget that new beginning was possible because this man right here made Henry go with him to a small gallery in Spain around nine months ago, and that started a chain reaction of events that led us to where we’re at today. A wonderful trip that I hope never ends.</p><p>After the conversation with Eric ends, I go back to the kitchen, now empty, to get another of Nicole’s margaritas. I shouldn’t drink too many of those though, or I’ll get too drunk before dinner is served. I hear someone entering while I’m serving myself a cup, and when I turn to see who it is, I find a smiley Henry walking in my direction. His smile is contagious, and when he stops behind me, I understand that, whatever realization I had before, it shouldn’t make me anxious. Henry is still the same as he was before I spoke to Nicole and Sarah, the same dork that will make me laugh and will provoke me with that cocky attitude he has sometimes, the same man who has taken care of me when I needed it, who was next to me when I needed to cry, or holded me when I stumbled on the way, the one who always knows how to put a smile on my face, and I tell myself once more, as I’ve been doing during the past months, that I shouldn’t be scared of my feelings.</p><p>I shouldn’t be.</p><p>“Whatcha got there?” he asks, peeking his head over my shoulder, his hands softly landing on my hips. </p><p>“Wanna try it?” I ask, offering my cup to him. He takes it, placing his hand over mine in an unnecessary contact as he brings it to his lips. I see him swallowing, so close to my face that I can perfectly smell his aftershave. Has he always been this provocative? Does he do it on purpose?</p><p>“Wow, Nicole doesn’t run short of tequila” he says, making me giggle. His tongue licks the rest of the beverage from the corner of his mouth, and I wonder how that tequila would taste coming from his lips. “Oh, look. You’re already gigglish.”</p><p>“I’ve only had one, don’t be silly. It’s you making me laugh this time” I protest, bringing the cup to my lips and taking a sip.</p><p>“Oh, so I have on you the same effect than margaritas?” </p><p>“You always have.”</p><p>With a satisfied grin on his face, Henry steps to my side and leans against the counter, his eyes fixed on me as I take another sip of my drink. When I’m done, he takes the cup from me again.</p><p>“Are you having fun?” he asks, then bringing the cup to his lips again.</p><p>“Yeah” I reply, smiling at him. “It’s gonna be weird for me to not have some grapes at midnight though. I believe it’s only a thing in my country.”</p><p>“Oh, is it?” he asks, arching his eyebrows as he hands me my cup back. “And what do you do? I guess it’s something more than just eating them.”</p><p>“Yes, you eat one for each strike of the bell, for good luck” I explain.</p><p>“If you had told me, I would have gotten some grapes for you. And some for me too, so you wouldn’t do it alone” he says. </p><p>For some reason, that makes me smile even more, and I feel again the butterflies in my stomach. I take another sip of my drink to see if I can calm them down, and I end up drinking whatever remains in the cup.</p><p>“It’s ok, each country has its traditions” I reply, leaving the now empty glass on the counter. “Do you guys do anything special at midnight?”</p><p>“Yeah, we give a midnight kiss” he answers. This time, it’s my time to raise my eyebrows in surprise. “It’s not something we have to do, though. Usually couples do it.”</p><p>“I believe I saw something like that in a tv show once” I recall, not truly remembering which one.</p><p>“There you have it.”</p><p>A small group of people enters the kitchen loudly chatting between them, and that concludes our conversation. However, Henry puts his hand on my lower back and leads me again to the living room, determined to spend some more time with me before someone else separates us again. We end up joining Nicole, Sarah and Eve, another one of Henry’s friends, and we talk about Sarah’s new job in a new school, until we notice a new guest has arrived. </p><p>We turn our heads instinctively to see who it is, and between the small welcoming crowd I distinguish a woman, some years older than me, but very beautiful, with a long, straight, honey-colored hair that falls gracefully until her mid back, wearing some stylish, expensive looking clothes. I’m about to not give it any importance, but I feel how Henry’s body tenses next to me. His expression, so joyful and genuinely happy from these last days, has become serious all of sudden, with a slight frown and a mix of confusion and mistrust in it. When he seems to be aware that I’m staring at him, he looks back at me as well, presses my arm gently as he leans to tell me a quick “I’ll be right back” in my ear, and then, goes to join the rest of people who’s gathering to welcome the unknown woman.</p><p>I look at the girls, who are still with me. The three of them are exchanging the same look of incredulity. </p><p>“I can’t believe Helen invited her” Eve whispers.</p><p>“I can. They’re friends after all” Nicole replies, shrugging and looking at her fingers.</p><p>“Yeah, but that’s just a mean thing to do” Eve insists. </p><p>“Honey, they’re adults, they know how to behave. This is not the first time they meet after what happened” Nicole says, trying to keep her voice low as well. “And we’re adults as well, so let’s just have a night in peace, please.”</p><p>Sarah, who’s been silent during the whole conversation, is still looking at the woman, now finally noticing Henry and giving him a brief kiss on the cheek. She seems really happy to see him, though not the same can be said from his part.</p><p>“I don’t understand. Who’s that woman?” I ask, trying to be discreet like the other ones.</p><p>Nicole turns her face to me, with an expression that says that she wishes to not be having this conversation, but she tells me anyway.</p><p>“That’s Phinn.”</p><p>Oh.</p><p>The fiancée.</p><p>It surprises me how, after the few details I’ve been told, either from Henry or from the girls, he still went to greet her, when his face clearly says that he wishes he could be elsewhere. I guess it’s what Nicole says, they’re adults after all. And Henry is too polite to just be disrespectful with anyone. I wonder if there will come the day I can stand to be in the same room with Philip one day, being able to talk with him the way Henry and that woman are doing right now. I don’t know how much time took for Henry to overcome the rupture, but I know their relationship is from many years ago. Maybe it took him years. Or maybe it still stings him, even today, though not so much as before.</p><p>Since it seems that all of the guests have arrived already, Helen and Freddie start to bring out of the kitchen all the dishes with food to have a cocktail-like dinner. I decide to stick with Nicole, Sarah and Eve for now, picking something to eat from here and there. There’s like an unspoken rule of not talking about Phinn set between the four of us, and I’m both, agreeing with it, but at the same time, wanting to know more. However, I understand that this is not something Nicole should tell me about, but Henry, and that only if he wants to. I know the main story, but I have the feeling that’s not everything about it.</p><p>Seems that their talk is going to take long, so after being told where it is, I make a brief visit to the bathroom, but when I exit the room, I first hear their voices, and then I see Henry and Phinn talking at the end of the corridor, apparently looking for some privacy. I freeze, not knowing well what to do, because I don’t want to listen if it’s supposed to be a private conversation, but there’s something that keeps me in place, still in the doorframe, halfway between both spaces.</p><p>“Why. Why would I want that now?” Henry asks, not in a kind tone, precisely. </p><p>“Come on, Henns, it’s what you always wanted, I know that hasn’t changed” she says.</p><p>“No, it hasn’t. But why would I want to have it with <em> you </em>?” Henry asks again, still surprising me with that tone that doesn’t sound at all like him.</p><p>“Because we know each other better than we know anyone else” Phinn’s voice is soft and gentle, and I’m pretty sure that voice tone in the past would be enough to make Henry melt like butter slowly heating in a pan. “Maybe I wasn’t ready for it in the past, but I’m someone different now.”</p><p>“So make it clear for me, because I don’t really understand, Phinn, either we know each other really well, or you are a different person, but there’s no way those affirmations can be true at the same time” Henry says, trying to keep his voice low to not drag the attention from the people in the living room, but clearly angry at the woman. “And besides, it’s been seven years, Phinn. What makes you think I still feel something for you?”</p><p>“What we had was something real, Henry, and nobody can forget something like that” Josephine places a hand on Henry’s shoulder and looks at him in an intimate way that I find myself reflected in, because I’ve done that same gesture dozens of times, and it kinda hurts to see we’re not that different. “Don’t give me an answer now, just think about it. Maybe we can even make amends by kissing at midnight.”</p><p>And she walks out of the corridor, back into the party, without noticing me. Henry, however, does. Our eyes meet, each of us in opposite corners of the corridor, mine, confused and curious, and his, angry and sad, and for a moment it feels like he wants to say something, to step forward and talk to me, but he seems to think better about it, sighs and just walks away, leaving me alone and not sure about what to think now about what I just witnessed, but it definitely sounded like she wanted to go back to where they left it.</p><p>I finally make my way back to the living room, where everyone seems to be having fun, and completely oblivious about what just transcurred. The girls are right where I left them, Phinn is talking to a group of people as well, but Henry is nowhere to be seen. After that, he probably was looking for some time alone, and I can’t blame him. For a moment I consider finding him, but I know it’s not a good idea, because if he wanted to talk to me, he would have done so in the corridor. Besides, he has a lot of thinking to do. The thought of him going back to his relationship with Josephine feels like a thorn in my chest, and I wonder when I lowered my defenses so much that the walls protecting my heart are now weak and shaking.</p><p>I go to the kitchen, now empty, looking for a new drink. I find the bucket with ice and bottles of beer and I take one, and when I open it and I’m about to go back, I see Phinn entering the room, probably looking for the same as me. She smiles at me as she approaches, kind and polite.</p><p>“I believe I don’t know you. I’m Josephine, but everyone here calls me Phinn, so feel welcome to do so as well” she says, offering me her hand.</p><p>“Oh, I’m Arlet” I reply, shaking her hand, giving her at least a polite smile, due to the circumstances. “I’m kind of new around, I only know half of the people here” I add, a bit nervous. <span>She might not know me, but I know from her more than she’s aware of, and that makes this one an unbalanced conversation.</span></p><p>“Well, don’t worry, everybody here is really nice, I’m sure you won’t have any problem getting along with everyone” she says, and she seems to genuinely think that. She also takes a beer and opens it as we talk. “And if you ever need something, just tell me, even if it’s just to have someone to talk to.”</p><p>“Thank you” I reply. </p><p>We both walk back together into the living room, and then we separate, joining the different groups we were with before. I’m still not sure about how to feel. Phinn seems really nice, but I can’t forget that she left Henry pretty badly. And of course, there are my feelings, always complicating everything. I knew that this day would come, that someone would appear sooner or later, it just happened to be sooner than I anticipated. And Henry is still nowhere to be seen, probably considering the option that was just put over the table for him, though he didn’t seem to like it. Maybe if he thinks about it coldly, he might reconsider his answer though, and if that happens, all that's left for me is to try to be happy for them.</p><p>I’ll need to try harder.</p><p>“Are you ok?” Nicole asks me after I’ve been silent and not really drinking much, immersed in my thoughts as I was.</p><p>“Yes, yes” I lie, my feet back on earth again. “I was trying to recall something from work, that’s all.”</p><p>“It’s a party, you shouldn’t think about work.”</p><p>“True.”</p><p><span>So I try to disconnect from my thoughts and enjoy the party. </span>Long way after I’ve finished my beer, Henry finds us again, with his coat on and signs of having spent time outside, though not looking any more relaxed, and definitely with no trace of his good mood from before. None of the girls brings the topic of Phinn out, and I have the feeling that it’s better that way. However, when they’re back to their conversation, Henry places a hand on the lower part of my back and leans to say something in my ear.</p><p>“Wanna go get some drinks from the kitchen?” he asks, which I know actually means ‘I need to be alone with you’.</p><p>“Sure” I answer. I’m still a mess of feelings and thoughts inside, but he’s still my friend, and if he needs me, I’ll be there.</p><p>And we both discreetly move to the other room, now empty again, but then he walks to the door that leads to the back porch, going outside. I follow him, closing behind us, and I instantly feel the cold and I regret not having brought my coat here. <span>It’s so cold I can see my breath.</span> Henry seems to realize, and he automatically takes off his and puts it over my shoulders, making me sink in that mix of scents so characteristic from him and that I’ve loved since the first day. He then walks towards a bench placed nearby, probably where he has been hiding this whole time. When he takes a seat, I do the same, next to him, but also giving him some space that he clearly needs right now. However, there’s something I need to clarify before it keeps burning in my chest for longer.</p><p>“I didn’t pretend to listen before, Hen, I’m sorry” I say. “I just walked out of the bathroom and… there you were. And I didn’t know what to do.”</p><p>“It’s ok, I’m not mad at you” he replies, with the first hint of something similar to relief that I’ve seen on him since Phinn arrived at the house. “More like I want to explain it to you.”</p><p>“You don’t need to if you don’t want to, Hen” I tell him, knowing how delicate the subject is for him.</p><p>“The thing is, I do” he says, his gaze fixed on me. “If you want to listen, of course.”</p><p>I nod, giving him half a comprehensive smile. That seems enough sign for him to start.</p><p>“Remember that I told you I was engaged once? Well, it was with Phinn, the woman you saw me talking to” he rests his arms on his thighs, his hands now together, with his fingers distractedly drawing abstract patterns on his palm. I forgot that he doesn’t know that Nicole has filled me already with that information, but I let him tell me anyway, let him get everything out of his chest. “I told you she grew tired of waiting for me every time I left the city for work, but the truth is… There was something else” he makes a brief pause, in which he still has his eyes fixed on his hands, avoiding this time having eye contact with me. “You know I’ve always wanted to start a family.”</p><p>“I do” I say, remembering that was one of the first things he told me when we met.</p><p>“I really thought that she wanted the same” he continues. “That’s why I proposed to her. Of course, also because I loved her, but also because I thought I had found a partner that shared the same vision of life that I had.”</p><p>“And she didn’t?”</p><p>He shakes his head.</p><p>“She said she did, but... I don’t know, whenever I brought up the topic, she always evaded it to the point I felt like I was pressing the subject too much on her, too early, when she wasn’t ready yet, and that added to the fact that I wasn’t too much at home…” Henry takes a deep breath. “One of the things of that fight that I’ll never forget is that she said I only wanted to play to have a family the short time I was around and leave her to do all the work after that. And… I don’t know, maybe I was.”</p><p>That makes my stomach twist. It feels so unfair, not only that Phinn ever thought about him like that, but that he also believes it. I place a hand over one of his, now cold due to the low temperatures. I feel bad about carrying his coat now, he must be freezing. He takes my hand, entangling our fingers, and with the other one, he draws an invisible line on the back of mine that ends on his ring, that I still keep with me everyday.</p><p>“You’re not like that, Hen” I say, breaking the silence set between us, and it surprises me to see he reacts to that with a sad smile.</p><p>“How do you know that?” he asks.</p><p>“Because during the weeks before Christmas, when you thought you were having your nephews over, you were the happiest I’ve ever seen you” I reply, remembering the joy on his face during those days. “And I saw how sad you were when they couldn’t come at the end. I know your family is the most important thing in the world for you, and the day you finally start your own, because that day will come, I’m certain that there will be nothing more important for you than them.”</p><p>And that’s just one example of the bunch I could give to him.</p><p>His gaze finally meets mine, his eyes still sad, but with a hint of affection shining in them.</p><p>“So…” I say, again, breaking the silence between us. “That’s what she wanted from you, isn’t it? To have that chance again” he nods, looking back at our hands, where my gaze goes as well. “And do you want to?”</p><p>It feels painful to say it out loud, even more knowing that the answer will probably hurt me more than what I’m prepared to bear with right now, but if there’s a wound to be done, better be done now, so I can start to heal sooner.</p><p>“No” he says. My eyes go back to his face, surprised, and my heart beats faster. Unaware of the big relief I’m feeling right now, he still looks at our hands, pensive. “What’s the point of starting a family if there’s no longer love?”</p><p>He’s right.</p><p>Now, knowing his answer, I feel like an idiot. I often forget he’s quite some years older than me, more experienced in life, more mature. He usually makes me see things from a different perspective, and to acknowledge that there are more ways to approach problems. What for me are big decisions to think about, he seems to have them clear, always having in mind how he feels about them, if they seem honest to who he is. Of course he wasn’t going to run back to her at the first chance. It’s more complicated than that.</p><p>I rest my head on his shoulder, and he lets go of my hand and surrounds my waist with his arm, pulling me even closer. I feel how he shivers with the change of posture, but when I tell him to go back inside, he refuses.</p><p>“Just a little longer” he asks, his head gently lying on mine, as we both see how the snow starts falling slowly.</p><p>So we stay there for a little while, in silence, just enjoying each other’s company, until I decide it’s enough and I don’t want to risk hypothermia. With the excuse that I’m cold and knowing he can’t say no to that, we go back inside. We warm up a bit in the kitchen and I give him his coat back, since it would draw unnecessary attention if I entered the living room wearing it. Once we’re back with everyone, we join the group with Eric, Richard and some of the guys, with Nicole as well. She gives us a ‘I know what you’ve been doing’ look, especially when Henry puts his hand on my waist, but doesn’t say anything, and whatever it is what she’s thinking, I don’t believe it’s actually what we’ve been doing. After some minutes back to talking to his friends and getting distracted, Henry seems to be himself again, but I notice that this time he doesn’t go too far from me.</p><p>At some point, the room is filled by music, and I can’t escape the girls’ call to go dance with them. It’s like being back again in my hometown, with my friends, partying in a club until we hit the sunrise. Well, obviously not exactly like that, but the spirit is the same. Some of the guys end up joining us, more to make a fool of themselves than to actually dance, but that only makes it better, because when I look at Henry, still in a corner, not drawing too much attention to him, he’s laughing again.</p><p>When the current song ends, I go back to him. He’s now talking to Eric, but when I approach them, he lifts his arm, making room for me, a spot that I gladly accept. Eric doesn’t seem surprised by the gesture, or our proximity. At this point, I don’t think any of his friends is. The conversation was about Henry’s injury, apparently, and the rehabilitation he’s following, and how tough it is for him to not be able to train as he used to. </p><p>“At least you get to rest from all those travels for a while” Eric says. “We like to have you here, man.”</p><p>“Yeah, I’m not lacking in reasons to be around” he replies, and I’d swear his hand gives me a soft squeeze on my arm when he says it.</p><p>“Well, look at that, it’s almost midnight” the other man says, looking at his watch. “I’ll better go fetch my girlfriend, otherwise I’ll have to kiss one of you two, and no offense, but that rather be my girl.”</p><p>And he leaves us as he walks towards Sarah, who’s dancing right now with Nicole. Starting the new year with a kiss sounds like the perfect beginning. While I’m looking how they both share a tender moment in which Eric gives her a kiss on her temple and Sarah smiles and kisses him on his lips, I feel how Henry’s arm goes down to my waist and pulls me closer even so slightly. I hug him by the waist as well, letting him come as close as he wants, and it doesn’t take long until I feel his lips on the side of my head. I honestly can’t remember how it was when we weren’t this close, how I managed to spend days with him and not daring to touch, because now I can’t imagine being around and not hugging him at least once. He’s the only one who makes me feel comfortable with such amount of physical contact, and I can’t think of a better company to start the new year with. </p><p>To share a kiss with.</p><p>I look at Henry, meeting his eyes already on me. Would he kiss me if I asked him to?</p><p>I don’t have the chance to find out.</p><p>“Well, it’s almost time, everyone!” Helen exclaims, turning up the tv volume. “Get yourselves ready!”</p><p>We all gather in half a circle around the tv, some sitting on the couches, some others, like Henry and I, standing behind them. I see Phinn, sitting next to Helen and her husband on one of the sofas, giving us a brief look before centering her attention back on the tv. I try to not give it any importance, and Henry doesn’t seem to have noticed it. </p><p>The last minutes of the year are coming to its end, a year full of changes and good moments. Sure, it has also had bad ones, but that’s what life is about. One days you’re on top of the world, and some others you stumble and fall. The key is to stand up again and keep walking, because you don’t know where the path might take you, but the trip certainly promises to be intriguing and exciting. </p><p>“Three!”</p><p>I look at the man right next to me, with his hand still holding my waist, and when he looks back at me, I tell myself I’m so lucky he came into my life.</p><p>“Two!”</p><p>We’ve walked together for a part of the way, and since then, the journey became less dark and lonely.</p><p>“One!”</p><p>His eyes are the only thing I can see, two lights that guide me through the unknown. If I am to keep walking this path, I want him walking next to me. Because with Henry, any trip is a wonderful adventure.</p><p>“Happy new year!”</p><p>As he leans over me, I close my eyes. The next thing I feel are his lips delicately pressing mine during a single second that seems to last for hours, days, weeks. I feel how the floor vanishes under my feet and I find myself floating, with his body as my only anchor to this world. This moment is so different from the memory of those lips so aggressively kissing me the night of the party, the very same lips that feel so warm and soft right now, being so gentle with me that it feels almost like a dream. And like this, in this moment suspended in time where there is only both of us, I know one thing.</p><p>My heart is his. It has always been.</p><p>I open my eyes when his lips conclude with that soft kiss, and time goes back to its normal course. People around us are cheering, celebrating the beginning of the new year, but inside me there’s a different celebration going on. It’s my heart, full of joy, rejoicing that the walls around it have finally crumbled down and turned into dust, allowing it to see the sun again, with millions of butterflies swarming around in a chaotic spree.</p><p>
  <em> Whatever our souls are made of, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> his and mine are the same. </em>
</p><p>Our eyes meet again, those blue skies I’d follow till the end of the world itself. </p><p>“Happy new year, Let” he mutters, his face still so close to mine, and his lips now curled into a fond smile.</p><p>“Happy new year” I repeat, only for him.</p><p>With this beginning, I’m sure it’s going to be a great one.</p><p>The ride back home is silent, but the comfy kind of silent. Sitting on the copilot side, my eyes lay on Henry, now focused on the dark road ahead of us, his profile silhouetted against the black background of the night through the car window. I wonder if he knows. If he’s aware of how safe and calmed he makes me feel.</p><p>The car finally stops at my building. Henry finally looks at me, a gaze full of affection that I wish he can also see in mine. I don’t know how I’ve been able to pretend normality after we kissed, when all I wanted to do was to kiss him again. In fact, the only thing preventing me from doing so right now is the fear of losing my friendship with him, because what we had tonight was a new year’s kiss, and nothing more.</p><p>Because even when my heart is his, that doesn’t mean it’s something mutual.</p><p>“Thanks for the fun night, Hen” I say, delaying a bit longer the moment to step out of the car, because honestly, I’m still not ready to leave him. </p><p>“Thank you for coming with me” he replies, his smile warming up every corner of my heart. “And thanks for… well. For being with me when I needed it.”</p><p>I place a hand over his, still resting on the gearshift, and he gently moves it and closes his fingers around mine.</p><p>“I have your back, Hen” I say, looking him in the eye. “Always.”</p><p>His grip tightens slightly around my hand, and for a moment, we just remain like that, in silence, holding hands. None of us mentions the kiss. And after a brief goodbye, I finally leave the car. </p><p>Henry waits until I’ve entered the building to start his way back home. I see him leave through the glass door before heading to the elevator. My apartment has never felt so empty before, and as I lay in bed, sleepless, staring at the ceiling of my room, I evocate the touch of his lips over mine again, and again.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A reminder that any details regarding Henry's personal life are totally made up to fit the story. I do know he was engaged once, but I don't know the name of the girl, nor the reasons of why they split up. </p><p>I dug my own grave with this chapter, just for you to know. I know you're ready to murder me for delaying the suffering even more after this :_D</p><p>Link words guide:<br/>Outfit 1: "Despite the cold, I’ve picked for today"<br/>Outfit 2: "I’m wearing something casual for the occasion"<br/>Detail outfit 2: "a navy blue sweater over a blouse"<br/>Hair: "As for my hair, just tied in a low wavy ponytail."</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. It's all about trust</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>January happens to be a slow and busy month, so when everything in the gallery seems to ease a bit and Arlet thinks she can finally have a bit of fresh air, things get a bit more complicated again.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>January is such a slow month I just want to get rid of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The days are always grey, most of them rainy, sometimes even snowy, but in general is a tedious weather that makes me miss the beginning of the bright mornings in spring, with a shy sun that slowly starts to gain strength to carry on with the rest of the day. I can’t wait for spring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>During the following weeks after the party, Henry starts a more intense part of his rehabilitation, which includes slowly going back to his training, for now under medical supervision, and that means he has less time to visit. The gallery now is always busy, but without him, it’s like something important is missing, and the days feel longer and boring without his jokes and provocations. I knew that sooner or later this would happen, that he’d slowly go back to his former lifestyle, and I remind myself that he is still in London, that he’s still around, and I can still visit him after work if I miss him that much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That, of course, if I hadn’t to spend so many hours in there after the gallery is closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We’re behind on a lot of stuff. Mellory lately is not being of much help, she doesn’t seem to be paying much attention to her tasks, and as much as Vesta and I try to guide her on how to do certain things, there comes a point in which we can’t do more to teach her, so she takes care of clients and visits while my main assistant and I organise all the paperwork and meetings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The few time I have left to spend with Henry are my free days, either in his house or mine, and during those I’m so tired I can’t enjoy it as much as I would like. He feels bad because he can’t help me in the gallery and during my spare time he tries to distract me as much as he can and make me relax, but my mind is unable to totally disconnect from work and gives me a bit of anxiety. We know this chaos is temporary, but it makes me miss the days in which I could work having him next to me, peeking over my shoulder. Or maybe, it’s just that I miss being with him all the time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But I won’t always have him around, he’ll be back to his work and travels soon. I better get used to his absence again before it hurts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Today, however, it seems like there’s a bit of peace finally. The workflow has gone back to normal, and besides redacting the new catalogue for the exhibition with the National Gallery while Vesta takes care of emails, there’s not much more to do. With Mellory taking care of the visits that are coming, Vesta and I work together on my desk, the stress levels are finally growing lower. Finally, a breath of fresh air for us, almost at the end of a very long and busy January.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we accepting more artists for April’s exhibition?” Vesta asks me after a while, her eyes still fixed on the screen of her laptop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re full for that one, put them on the waiting list” I reply. Lately, most of our conversations are like that. I make a mental note to take her somewhere nice for lunch when all this nightmare is over. She’s been working so hard she deserves it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We keep going in silence for some more minutes, only hearing the sound of our respective keyboards while we write.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s someone asking if we’re available for a meeting regarding the collaboration with the National Gallery” Vesta breaks the silence again. “I know we’re not, but this person claims to know you, so just in case.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Name?” I ask, my eyes still fixed on my own screen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her voice seems to hesitate while reading the name, struggling to get the pronunciation right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Philip La… Larouse? Laroogeé?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Larouge?” I guess, now finally looking at her with a tired and serious expression. That man never gives up, does he?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. He’s asking if we’ve considered his portfolio” Vesta replies, satisfied for two brief seconds, until she sees my face. “What do I tell him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing. Spam tray” I resolve, going back to the content of my catalogue, trying to ignore the knot in my stomach that precedes the anxiety.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t say anything back, but I can tell she’s curious, since we’ve never put an artist on the spam tray before. However, I’m not willing to talk about that, not now at least, so I keep redacting, my eyes fixed on the screen, stating very clearly that the conversation is over. Silence is set over us once again, I only wish my concentration hadn’t just jumped out of the window, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The screen of my phone shows a new text from Henry after a few minutes I’m back into writing. I’m about to ignore it now that I’m focused again, but it’s been days since I’ve seen the man and the weight of longing is heavier than my determination to stay on task. I unlock the screen and see what he is up to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Want me to bring some food to your place tonight and have dinner?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A smile comes to my lips, and that knot of anxiety formed in my stomach disappears. I don’t hesitate as I write the answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds great. Can’t wait!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought of seeing him sooner than I was expecting this week certainly improves my morning. Everything seems lighter now that I know I’ll see him at the end of the day. The rest of the page I was writing comes out with no issue, and I even manage to start the next one before my next interruption. It’s barely noon when a familiar woman enters the gallery, makes a brief tour around, and when she has satisfied her curiosity, finally walks towards my desk making both of us, Vesta and I, to quit our attention from our respective screens. Wearing some tight jeans and her olive green winter coat still on, I recognise her instantly, but that makes me wonder what she is doing here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“May I help you ma’am?” Vesta asks, getting out of her chair as Phinn finally arrives at the desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually, I was wondering if I could have a talk with your boss” she answers, referring to me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry Vesta, she’s a friend” I say, though friend is not the word I would use to define our relationship because we barely know each other. I get out of my seat as well and I walk towards her. “What a nice surprise to see you here, Phinn” when I go to offer my hand to her, she just pulls me into a brief hug and a kiss on the cheek, which catches me by surprise. “How did you know where to find me?” I ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you know, the girls have only nice words about you, and they told me about the wonderful business you’ve started here with Henns, so I thought I’d come by and take a look” she explains, not giving it too much importance, but I do wonder which girls she has talked to, because I know not all of Henry’s friends like her anymore. “If you have time, I would like to take you out for lunch. I know a place near that prepares so many different types of rice and I swear you’re going to love it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ok. This is weird.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s something, a voice in my head telling me there’s a hidden intention in this, that all this sudden interest and kindness is more than what it seems, but I’m not sure about what she pretends. However, we’re doing great with our current amount of work, a lunch is a lunch, and the best way to find out what she wants is to go with her, so I give Josephine my best polite smile and I nod. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you survive without me for an hour here?” I ask Vesta.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Certainly” she answers with her usual cordial smile. “I’ll hold the fort, have fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That seems to please Phinn as well, and after I’ve put my coat on, we both leave together. During our walk to the restaurant she talks about how she liked what she saw at the gallery, that she didn’t expect Henry to take such a sudden interest in art, and a bunch of easy compliments that I don’t fall for, not even one bit. I certainly see through people easily. I don’t know what she wants, but Phinn definitely didn’t come to talk about the gallery with me. It doesn’t take me long to find out though. Once we’re sitting at a table and the server walks away with our order, she starts to reveal the real motive of her visit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, back in the party we didn’t have much time to talk” she starts. “I thought you came because you were friends with Nicole, and it surprised me to learn later that you came with Henry instead.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s subtle, but not that much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, he told me about the party” I reply, thinking carefully how to phrase everything I’m saying. “In fact I wouldn’t know Nicole or any of his friends if he didn’t introduce me to them last summer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m going to play innocent as long as I can, because I like things clear and over the table, and not tiptoeing around to gather information like she’s doing. I’m quite aware that sometimes I can give the impression of being vulnerable, innocent and oblivious, especially to people older than me who think they know everything because they have more years of experience and try to patronise me, so I recognise when it happens. I was born at night, but not last night. Until she’s not clear with me, I won’t be with her either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes, he’s very careful with his friends’ privacy, not everyone gets inside his close circle. I’m pretty sure he is with yours as well” she says, still being cautious with her words. "I was wondering… how did you two meet? For your accent I can guess you're not from England."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You guessed correctly" I reply. "We met in Spain last spring. I was still working at my old gallery and Eric dragged him inside. We started talking and… well. Here we are today." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Here we are, his former fiancee and the girl that's madly in love with him. A situation I’d never expected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, that’s typical of Henns. He can make friends anywhere" she smiles when she says that, but behind her smile I can tell she’s starting to get a bit tense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The server comes with our food just in time. With some risottos and glasses of water between us, the conversation continues, apparently innocently. Phinn asks me about my life, my family, my interests, and somehow we come back to Henry one way or another, as if she’s trying to ascertain if I’m interested in him, or something else. Whatever it is that she wants, now I’m sure it obviously has to do with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the pearl of the conversation comes out when she finally decides to change her tactic, tired of walking around the subject without any result.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You two have become really close, don’t you? Well, I mean, he kissed you at midnight, of course you’re close.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And there we go, a bit of clarity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, as friends” I say, guessing that what she’s actually asking me is if we’re together or not. “It wasn’t something we even thought about in that moment, it just came out like that probably because we’re comfortable around each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I try to rest importance to it, keeping to myself the truth about how I felt that night during that kiss, and I can see on her face a bit of relief showing off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, sure, a kiss is just a kiss, of course. It’s just that it surprised me how natural it seemed between the two of you” she makes a pause, as if she’s hesitant about saying something else, or maybe rethinking her interrogation tactics. “Has he told you that we were engaged time ago?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Josephine drops the question naturally, like she’s talking about the weather or how much she likes the food, but I know there’s an intention behind it. She’s testing the waters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He did” I answer, considering if I should tell her what I know or not. A part of me is tense now, because I don’t like talking about Henry’s affairs, even less if he’s not present, and another one wants to know how she sees things from her perspective. In the end, I resolve that my loyalty to him is more important, so I decide to improvise a little lie. “He didn’t tell me much though, and honestly what you two had it’s none of my business. The past is in the past.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a great way to see things”</span>
  <em>
    <span> yeah, sure, because that doesn’t make you look like the baddie of the movie.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “It is true that we had our differences in the past, but we’re working on it” then, she sighs in a very convincing way, like she just decided to drop the facade once and for all. “Listen Arlet, I know most of Henry’s friends don’t like me anymore, which is totally fair, and I just wanted to have a talk with you because I don’t want you to get a wrong impression of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, I almost believe it. Almost. She might not make a living from it, but she’s a good actress. If it wasn’t because my intuition is strongly telling me there’s something else, I would have totally swallowed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Henry first told me that he was about to get married once, I always thought that the woman must have been of a nice and warm heart, honest, true to herself and proven to be loyal to Henry, if she had managed to get that far with him. If Phinn was once all of that, she clearly changed along the way, because that’s not the person I have today in front of me. During the party it was hard for me to get an impression of her outside what everyone told me, including Henry, but she seemed nice at first. Today, however, she feels more like the kind of person who doesn’t like other people touching her toys, even if she’s not playing with them anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s the impression she’s giving me, and I don’t think it’s a wrong one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have quite a story behind us, we know each other better than we know anyone else” Phinn continues, unaware about what is going on in my head, “and that’s what people don’t want to see. But the truth is, I do care about him, and I believe, for what the girls have told me, you can understand me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looks me in the eye, when she says it, and for a change, a direct eye contact tells me nothing but lies. But I nod, because there’s part of a truth there, and it’s that I care about Henry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do” I say, still pretending I’m buying the whole story. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice, because… Well, since the party we've been having talks about us, about the future, and we’re slowly solving our problems, and it would be nice to have someone between his friends who doesn’t judge me for my past mistakes” she says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, Phinn stabs me directly, as if thousands of needles were making their way to my heart. But that can’t be true, can it? Henry said he didn’t want to give her another chance. She’s been lying to me during the whole conversation, why should she be telling the truth now?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As I said before” I reply, this time having a hard time keeping my facade. She totally caught me off guard, “the past is in the past. And whatever he decides to do, I’m sure it will be the best for him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Josephine smiles, clearly pleased by my answer, or because she read my face as a success in her attempt to mark her territory. Whatever it is, I let it go, because Henry is not mine to mark him in any way, the weight of the conversation lightens from that point, and we manage to finish lunch. We walk back to the gallery and part ways there with her saying “I’m glad I can count with a new friend” which I don’t deny, but I’m not happy with either, and I finally go back to work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I spend the rest of the afternoon thinking about it, however. Henry said no to go back with her, sure, but maybe there’s a chance that he changed his mind and hadn’t told me. What if she was telling me the truth at the end? What if she just wanted to make clear I didn’t have any hopes to start something with him? Well, it’s not like I was having hopes either, but… My feelings are still the same, that hasn’t changed. Maybe, if I ever had any opportunity, I missed it by being too coward and now it’s too late. Now the girl he was about to marry once seems to be back to claim whatever remains of their old relationship are left and see if it can be fixed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My head remains a huge mess for the rest of the day, I can’t even finish what I was working on this morning. It doesn’t matter that I instantly knew she was lying regarding her intentions, Phinn managed to create what she intended with her visit. Doubts, doubts and more doubts. And still with those thoughts hammering inside my head, the day at the gallery is finally over and I start my walk back to my apartment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I almost forget about him when I get there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaning against the column, a big figure moves and approaches me, appearing in my peripheral vision as I’m opening the door of the building and scaring the shit out of me, making me jump in place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus Christ, Henry, you scared me!” I protest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wearing his rugby beanie and a hoodie, carrying a bag of what I suppose is our dinner, and smiling in amusement, there he is in front of me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Haven’t you checked your phone? I texted you telling I was already here” he says, as if that was an excuse to make my heart race at the speed of a competition horse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m sorry” I reply, trying to recover my breath. “I had… An intense afternoon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pretty intense mentally. So intense it made me forget what my plans were for the night. But now, seeing him here, it’s like all my concerns and doubts are just taken by the wind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, then let’s make a nice end for an intense day. Shall we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I can’t help the smile that comes to my lips. He always manages to make my days a lot nicer, even if he doesn’t know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We get to my apartment, where he finally takes his beanie off and unleashes that sea of brown curls that is his hair, and we share a beer while we serve the food, catching up with our respective weeks, as we usually do now that we don’t see each other that much. Henry tells me how his training is doing, that he’s now able to do some runs and weight lifting, and that he’s back to feel like himself again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what? I can tell training is doing wonders on you” I say, taking a sip of my glass right after.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” he asks, frowning a bit in concern. “Have I deteriorated that much?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To which I can only laugh, because he really looks worried about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you still look great” I reply, finally. “But you’re happier when you’re not forced to rest. I still remember the first couple of weeks after you injured yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I remember having a cute nurse at home to make sure I didn’t walk around too much” he jokes, looking at me with those blue gems that are his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, she didn’t do a great job. You always got away with it” I say, holding his gaze, defiant, keeping up with his provocations. “You tend to do so, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, do I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s kind of a flirty tone in his voice when he asks that, and for some reason I can only think about the kiss back at the party, the kiss that I’ve not been able to get out of my head since that day, and the one we never talked about. But also the kiss he gave me in the gallery more than half a year ago, the one that haunts me in my slumber when I lower my defenses and makes me wake up in the middle of the night thinking of him. A kiss I can’t forget either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do” I say, finally, ignoring the soft pink that I’m sure that has appeared in my cheeks. “When there’s something you really want, you don’t give up until it’s yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What I think at first is a mischievous smirk crosses his face, making him break eye contact, looking at the food on his plate. I realize then that it’s not mischief, but tenderness, making me wonder what I have said to get that reaction from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can bet” he finally answers, staring back at me again, this time with that softness still in his gaze. “Especially if it’s something worth chasing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In his eyes, there’s something else I cannot decipher. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, the topic changes and I tell him about our progress in the gallery, about how we have a waiting list already for future exhibitions, and that we’re finishing polishing the details for the collaboration with the National Gallery as march is slowly approaching. The only two things I don’t tell him are the email from Philip from this morning, because I decide it’s not worth any attention, and my lunch with Phinn, which I’m still trying to decide if I should or not, and honestly, why should I ruin the good mood we have right now when all I want is to have some decent time with him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time we finally finish the trays of sushi that he brought, I’m finally back to be myself again, less stressed and happier. Henry always has that effect on me. After I change my clothes into something more comfortable, we lay on the couch, watching a movie on tv to which we don’t really pay attention to, more like it’s making some noise while we talk, giving us an excuse to just sit together. I’m resting my back against his chest while he holds me, so whenever he talks, I feel the vibration of his torso embracing me, and for a change, this apartment feels like home more than ever, like every time he comes to visit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hen” I call him, after a moment of silence, in which he gently strokes my hair while I mindlessly draw abstract forms in his arm with my fingers, both of us looking at the screen, but not paying attention to it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmh?” his low timbre tells me that he’s as relaxed now as I am.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know once you’re able to work again you’re going to be busy, and out of London a lot more” I say, knowing that our time together is going to be barely non-existent at some point in the near future, “but I’d love it if you could come for the inauguration at the National Gallery. It would mean a lot to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I look up at him when I say it. Usually I don’t mind hosting parties at our gallery even if he’s not around. We’ve had a couple already to which he hasn’t attended, that’s not an issue at all. It’s the important ones that I’d like him to come, like our first exhibition opening party or, in this case, the one with the National Gallery. Is not only because he’s also one of the owners, but because with him I feel safe in such an elegant ambience I’m not as used to being in. It’s a big event, with important people, and it honestly scares me a bit to go without Henry. I wouldn’t be where I am now if it wasn’t for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you asking me to go with you, Miss Caronte?” he asks with his playful tone, making me smile as I look down a bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe?” I answer half giggling, also playing. But then I search for his gaze again, and this time I give him my genuine answer. “Yes. If you want to come, of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry smiles fondly at me, even with his eyes, his fingers still running through my hair in a soft caress. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll let you know that I have already cleared that weekend for the occasion” he says.“I know it’s important for you. I’d never miss it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, he makes my chest grow warmer. Henry knew already I wanted him here for that day, it doesn’t matter if I asked him to or not. He always says it surprises him how I know him really well, but he doesn’t get behind either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, he knows me better than I know myself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just promise me I won’t get you in trouble for that” I reply, remembering that the last time he did something like that it almost cost him that role last summer. “I know your schedule is complicated.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t, don’t worry” he promises. “Filming can be scheduled in a way that actors can attend to different compromises. I told them it was something important for my business, which is technically not a lie, and that I had to be here for the weekend. Besides, I will only be missing a couple of days, so production didn’t have much objections to that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And when were you planning to tell me that?” I ask, protesting because I didn’t find that out sooner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was waiting for you to ask me, where would the fun be if I didn’t?” he jokes, making me smile again. “I organised everything with Marco a couple of weeks ago, but you’ve been busy lately, so I thought it could wait until we found the right moment for it, like now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What else have you been keeping from me?” I ask again in the same tone, half joking, but in a softer one I add, “You know you can tell me anything anytime, Hen, I’ll always have time for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, I know” he replies, his fingers now putting some strands of my hair out of my face so he can leave soft caresses on my cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You would tell me if there was something important, right?” I make that last question thinking about what Phinn told me earlier today. If they were having talks about going back together… He would tell me, wouldn’t he?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Let” he pinches my cheek softly, but that’s enough to get a new smile from me. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t tell you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And if I still had any doubts, he manages to make them go away. I don’t know how I allowed Phinn to get inside my mind like that. Henry has never lied to me, nor hidden anything that big from me. If he says there’s nothing else, I trust him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Trust is a beautiful gift to give. I hope one day you can find someone who deserves it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Those words from a day forgotten long ago come suddenly to my mind, from the night I had dinner with Tom. And he was right. Trust is a gift, a big one to give to someone, but Henry has been earning it since the first day we met. He’s been with me in the good moments and the worst ones, has been true to every promise he has made to me, and what’s most important, he gave me his trust long ago, allowing me to see that vulnerable side of him he always keeps hidden from the rest of the world. A man like him, so kind and polite with such a good heart, yet with so much to lose if he trusts the wrong person, decided that I was worth taking the risk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took me time to finally lose my fears, but I know he is worth it too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the week goes by with no issue, and with that, January is finally gone. Sadly, that also means that Henry will go back to work and probably have to leave soon. I tell myself that it doesn’t matter, that he’ll come back and I’ve already been without him before, but I really wish he didn’t have to go. However, life doesn’t stop, and I don’t have time to do so either. We’re starting to receive the first paintings for the big event in March to store them until we can bring them to the National Gallery, which means that our building is in a bit of chaos right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Between all the big boxes that are arriving and the pieces we already have stored, I’m immersed in the mess that is now the hidden office, trying to make room for everything and at the same time keep the new ones separated from the old ones, so when the time comes to move them again, there’s no confusion with which ones have to go and which ones have to stay. Everything would be much easier if the room was bigger, of course. But as it is now, there are boxes piling up even over the sofas used for the meetings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And it’s going to be like this for all the month, oh lord, please have mercy” I mutter, alone in the room for a big part of the morning now, as I drop myself in the small space left in one of the couches to have a little break.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A couple of minutes later, Vesta knocks at the door of the office and her head peeks from the doorframe, smiling. I look at her with a tired expression, hoping that she’s done with her emails and comes to help me in my misery. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Arlet, you have a surprise visit” she announces. “Shall I let him in?” she asks, concerned probably because of the mess that is the room right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sure” I answer, getting on my feet again, my heart beating faster because I didn’t expect Henry to come today.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When it comes to surprises, it can only be him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or that’s what I thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m not ready when I see that the one crossing the door is not Henry, but Philip, with his used-style jeans and his brown leather pilot coat still on, his hands hiding behind his back and a smirk on his face, partially hidden by his beard, that I know too well. He probably told Vesta some sort of lie to be allowed in, and probably I should have warned her, but the thing is I didn’t think that he’d show up like this. Something inside me twists and forms a knot that makes me feel sick but, oddly, is not a reaction as strong as the ones I had the last times I saw him. I can bear with the fact that he’s in front of me without that urgent feeling of having to run away, which is a huge improvement for me. More than that, I can feel something else burning in my chest. The rage I have contained since he left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at you, princess” he says in spanish, walking a couple of steps towards me. “You’ve prospered a lot. Why didn’t you tell me about this place the last time we met?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I didn’t want you to show up, like you just did” I reply aggressively, crossing my arms over my chest. “Apparently indirects are not your forte. What are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What else than doing a visit to my lady” he answers as he finally shows one of his hands, holding a red rose that he was hiding behind his back and handing it to me. “For the old times.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I don’t buy it. What’s the real reason, Philip?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still holding the flower, I end up taking it in an aggressive gesture so it’s not in front of my face anymore. I know he’s after something, and knowing that the gallery is participating in an important exhibition and his failed attempts to gain a spot in it, I can tell where his true intentions lay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the real reason. Why are you so harsh, princess?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t call me princess” I bark at him, already fed up with his attempts of manipulation that I can see coming. “I’m not your princess, I’m not your lady, and definitely I’m not your girl anymore, so don’t act like the last two years didn’t happen, because let me remind you that you fucking left without giving me any explanation or telling me if we were done or not. Whatever it is what you’re looking for here, you’re not going to find it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re still upset about that?” he asks, genuinely surprised, as if getting angry about being left abandoned with no reason wasn’t a normal reaction. “I always told you I like to be free like a bird, Arlet, I don’t know why you have to take everything that way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe that after all there’s only lies coming out from your mouth right now” I reply, not sure if I want to laugh at it, because that’s clearly not what I remember. “Or maybe you’re confusing me with another one of your princesses and you don’t remember whatever it was that you told me back then. One way or another, I’m done with your excuses, so go be </span>
  <em>
    <span>free like a bird</span>
  </em>
  <span> elsewhere, let the wind take you to a place that is not near me and whatever other overused metaphors you use. I don’t want you here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything that I should have told him two years ago and he didn’t give me the chance of. Everything that has been growing inside my chest whenever I thought about all the pain he did to me. Every promise he made and broke and every night I spent crying, alone and broken, now all turned into a burning anger that won’t let me remain silent in front of him. Not anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because there’s other people around who really see my true value, and I know I’m not alone. I’ve never been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that going to be your last word?” Philip asks, after a brief pause in which he seems to realize he’s not going to get anything from me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually, the last thing I’d like to say is ‘fuck you’, in case you didn’t get it right in the first place” I say, determined, tossing aside the rose, which lands on the coffee table from the office. “And I hope someday someone gives you the punch in the face you deserve.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That seems to be the last drop for Philip, who finally decides it’s time for a strategic retreat and, after giving me an humiliated nod, makes his way back to the door, but before leaving the room, he turns to me one last time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know? Having this place doesn’t make you more special, don’t feel so superior now, because you were nobody last year.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And not waiting for an answer, he crosses the door, but he’s stupid if he thinks that doing that he’s heard the last of me. I follow, feeling the anger </span>
  <em>
    <span>boiling</span>
  </em>
  <span> in my veins as it has never done before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope you get kicked in the balls someday!” I yell, as he walks towards the main door of the gallery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Crazy bitch!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And with that, he exits. I see Vesta on my desk, looking at me with confusion and terror on her face, probably realizing that she messed up letting the man in, but the truth is, I feel good after this. I’ve released a weight I’ve been carrying for so long, and I’m glad it happened, because I feel stronger now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes me a few seconds, though, to realize there’s someone else with my assistant, his blue eyes also staring at me after the scene. His face is painted in concern and urgency, and I wonder, as I look back at Henry, what it is that has him feeling like that.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This chapter was a NIGHTMARE to write. I'm really sorry about any mistakes that can be (and I'm sure that have happened) during all of it, or if there are parts that don't make sense, which I really don't know at this point, because I've written and read, and reread, and rewritten, and I don't know what makes sense anymore. Also sorry for the little Henry moments as well, but this was something necessary to tell and I had to make some decisions about how I wanted to narrate it. </p><p>Last week was very complicated to me, I had some anxiety issues that persisted for pretty much all the week and made me difficult to sit and write for some hours each day as I usually do. That's also why the chapter comes with a bit of delay. (I know it's not a big delay, but still, I feel bad if I don't post at least once a week 😂)</p><p>Also I'm sorry for the sort of cliffhanger??? We'll find out what happens to Hen in the next chapter.</p><p>We're close to finish the year, guys. Veeery close. 👀</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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